


bit of this and that - AFTG tumblr prompts

by nekojita



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Scenes, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bartender Andrew, Death!Neil, Little bit of angst, M/M, Raven!Neil, Secret Santa, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Hatfords, Tumblr Prompts, add prompts as I go along, but HEA, demon neil - Freeform, don't mess with Andrew's car, don't mess with andrew's need of chocolate either, life with cats, little bit of this and that, psychic Neil, super powers, trying to get it all together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-04-14 17:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 60,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekojita/pseuds/nekojita
Summary: Just trying to gather various tumblr and fic prompts together here - some of these are extra scenes or alternate scenes on existing fics.Added several new prompts so people can actually find the older ones and some newer ones I wrote.





	1. Armies  - Andreil - T

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, since I've been posting more prompts and will be trying to get some out regularly while working on the 2018 BB fic, I figured I'd start gathering them here. I'll put a couple up for now since Raven's Partner 21 may be late this weekend (I'll be at Sakuracon), and try to get the rest up slowly.
> 
> I'll post the pairing, rating (most will be around 'T' but some might go up to 'M', hence the overall higher rating) and the story it's based on, if applicable, and try to mention any trigger warnings at the start.  
> *******

TW - well, some bickering here, swearing, mild injury.

 

*******

Prompt -moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed

(this is a bit of a cliché excuse me)

“Let me see it,” Abram insisted, his voice pitched low but concern still evident.

“It’s barely a scratch,” Andrew insisted. “That guy couldn’t shoot worth shit.”

“Such a shame, too,” Abram said as he tugged at Andrew’s thick leather jacket; Lloyd was an utter bastard for sending them to Moscow in the winter, even if they were staying at the Savoy near the Red Square. Even if all the layers which Andrew was wearing – the leather jacket, the wool sweater which had been a Christmas present from Nicky and Erik the year before, and a cotton t-shirt beneath that – had helped to ensure the wound was indeed just a ‘scratch’. “Here I was thinking of trading you in for a less stubborn prat, one who knows to fucking _duck_ when he’s being shot. I’ve even got these cute little black collars with bows for the cats so they can come to the funeral.” Despite the scorn all but dripping from his voice and the way his pale blue eyes blazed with anger, his hands were gentle on Andrew’s wounded left arm.

Andrew clicked his tongue as his husband checked the damn _scratch_. “What do you know, the romance is gone and it’s barely been three years, _babe_. I get King and the cars, you can keep the damn fish.”

“You have to be alive to sign the bloody divorce papers, _hon_ ,” Abram all but snarled before he stomped off, probably to fetch the med kit they always packed for missions. _Probably_. Andrew made sure to keep an eye on the idiot’s hands just in case.

The fancy hotel aside, it hadn’t been one of their better missions. The specs were only half right (Andrew didn’t blame Ashley on that one, there was only so much she could do when it looked as if the information fed to their team had been a mess), which meant that Andrew and Abram had run their asses off ever since arriving in order to figure things out and stay alive. It was a miracle that they’d wrapped things up so ‘easily’, relatively speaking (other than the sense of exhaustion and stress and having to be grateful for regulations about up-to-date inoculations after running around the one abandoned hospital).

“I also get Bren,” Andrew declared when Abram stomped back over with the medkit, continuing their familiar litany of ‘who gets what’ in their fantasy break-up.

“Bren falls under pre-existing items, so he’s mine,” Abram said as he shoved the kit into Andrew’s right hand so he could remove his own coat, a thick wool one. “You get Nicky.”

“I don’t want Nicky,” Andrew argued. “I want Bren.” Okay, that didn’t come out right.

“Shut up about the damn divorce before I sew your lips shut, **_hon_** ,” Abram warned, enough bite in his voice that Andrew knew it was time to put a pause on their little verbal game. Yet when he reached out to tuck back a wavy lock of auburn hair which had slipped free from the plain clip which Abram had used to tuck it out of the way, his husband gave him a faint yet grateful smile before tugging on the hem of Andrew’s black sweater to indicate for him to remove it.

Once Andrew pulled it off (and couldn’t hold back a slight wince between the twinge in his ribs and the stab of pain in his arm), a smug Abram quickly cleaned the wound and bandaged it up; it really was only a flesh wound, but they’d learned to never take such things for granted. “No stitches this time, that guy really was a lousy shot.”

“Told you.” Andrew flexed his arm and nodded over the way the bandage held. “No wonder they’re trying to hack our personnel files rather than do some real work.”

“Hmm.” Abram finished putting everything back in the medkit and then ran his fingers over the bandages, his touch light. “Still, lazy bastards and lousy shots or not, there’s no reason for you to help them out. Duck better next time, dammit.”

But Andrew wasn’t sure that Abram would have been covered then, so it was worth it. He didn’t say that, though, not when the damn martyr would only argue that he was fine (no), that he could handle himself (most of the time, but not that day), that he wasn’t worth the sacrifice (yes, he was).

So instead, Andrew reached out with his good arm and threaded the fingers of his right hand through Abram’s loose curls so he could tug his husband forward for a kiss. Abram came all too willing, the kit hastily set aside so he could drape his arms over Andrew’s shoulders.

Abram’s arms were wrapped tighter around Andrew and now both of his hands were buried in Abram’s hair as they gave in to all of the last few days’ pent up frustration and fear for each other and desire, Andrew relied on his memory to lead them to the bedroom rather than break off the kiss and mostly got them there in one piece (at least the couch was well padded, and Andrew’s shoulder only glanced against the wall).

“You get shot again and I’m telling Nicky,” Abram murmured as Andrew lowered him onto the bed, hands moving lower to pull off his own sweater. “I swear it.”

“Grounds for extreme cruelty for the divorce, _babe_ ,” Andrew pointed out as he worked on undoing Abram’s jeans. “I’ll get both the cats _and_ Bren, now.”

“And find your precious cars in pieces, _hon_. Now shut up, let’s get on to the hate sex.” Abram frowned in confusion as he lifted his hips to help Andrew. “Or is it make up sex? Uhm….”

“Time to shut up,” Andrew said, done with the joke for the time being – especially when Abram had to go _there_ with the cars. Besides, they had much better things to do right then.   

*******


	2. More Things Change - Jeaneil - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this a little something to hold one over until I can write more of this storyline (when RP is wrapped up).  
> Prompt - "Kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing" for Jeaneil. And TW would be for past bad things at the Nest, but nothing too explicit.  
> *******

*******

“- _linens, towels, detergent, soap, cups, silverware, plates, a_ -“

“A gold-plated stand for our Exy racquets,” Nathaniel called out from where he was sitting on the bed, busy responding to a text from Declan about what time they thought they’d be moving into the dorms tomorrow.

“A gold- dammit, Nat, don’t distract me!” Jean looked up from the list he was checking on his laptop to glare, his thick brows drawn together in a way that Nathaniel always adored. “I’m busy here.”

“You’ve gone over that list at least a dozen times,” Nathaniel argued as he set his phone aside on the king-sized bed they shared in their hotel suite. “Declan and Geoff have already bought everything on it and are ready to bring it to the Fox Tower tomorrow, as soon as Wymack gives us our room assignment.”

Now Jean appeared more uncertain than surly. “I want to make sure that we haven’t forgotten anything.” He typed for a few seconds then shook his head. “We’ve always had everything supplied to us, this is all so new.”

“And all we have to do now is call someone and they’ll bring it to us.” Nathaniel didn’t see how things were that different, except that they were no longer trapped in the Nest and being abused by Riko and Tetsuji. “And it won’t be all black and red for once.”

That wrung a faint smile from his partner, who glanced away from the laptop screen at him instead. “Yet some things never change.”

Nathaniel tugged at the black hooded sweatshirt he was wearing – Jean’s – over on old pair of shorts. “Well, _someone_ won’t let me get a PSU sweatshirt, will he?”

“No orange for you, flammèche.” Jean shuddered in horror. “Just… no.”

“All right then, let’s make a deal – you leave that list alone and I won’t wear any PSU apparel, all right?” Nathaniel offered. When Jean was quiet in return, he sighed. “ _What is it, shadow of my shadow? What’s wrong? And don’t tell me that you’re worried about us having enough flannels or something_.”

Jean sighed as he once more looked up from the laptop’s screen, his expression worried. “ _I… tomorrow we meet the rest of the Foxes, and unlike at the Nest, we don’t have any rank here_.” His left hand rose to brush against his tattoo for a moment. “ _We’re rookies once again, so where does that leave us_?”

What protection did it give them, he meant. “ _Not quite rookies, especially you_ ,” Nathaniel pointed out. “ _We’re still perfect court, still ex-Ravens, and better than anyone else on this team, other than Kevin_.” He scoffed as he rubbed at the barely healed scar on his left cheek. “ _And we’ve survived his pet monster, so something tells me that dealing with the rest of the Foxes will be easy_.” Oh yes, if they could ‘handle’ Andrew Minyard and even work out some sort of deal with what was supposed to be the most dangerous of the Foxes, then the rest of the team shouldn’t be a problem.

If they were? Then Nathaniel would handle them – they didn’t have any other option, really. Not when Ichirou had sent them to PSU with a specific task to complete by a specific date. Tetsuji’s little ‘castle’ was about to fall down and Riko’s reign of terror end, and the Foxes either helped Nathaniel bring that about (and win some damn games in the process) or got the hell out of his way.

He much preferred the first option, but he wasn’t going to let a bunch of rejects ruin things for him and Jean. Ichirou was a much, much better ‘lord’ than any of the other Moriyamas… but he _still_ was a Moriyama and failure wasn’t an option.

As if picking up on that thought, Jean shook his head. “ _We have enough to worry about, dealing with these unstable people, we might as well be certain of what we can. So I want to be sure that we have enough for our room_.”

Nathaniel sighed as he got up from the bed and went over to the desk where his partner was sitting. When Jean looked up at him, he managed to slip into the small space between the desk and the chair so he could straddle his lover’s lap. “And I say it’s good enough.” Someone worried too much, dammit.

“But Nat, it’s-“ Jean’s eyes went wide when Nathaniel cut him off with a kiss, and for a moment Nathaniel thought he might get pushed away in favor of the damn list. Then Jean’s arms wrapped around his waist and he was kissed back, tentatively at the start (Jean always kissed him like that at first, as if uncertain he really could, as if it was all right) and then with increasing ardor as the chair was shoved back.

Nathaniel wound his legs around his partner’s hips and held on tightly as Jean stood up, breaking off the kiss to laugh as he was carried to the bed. His fingers threaded through Jean’s thick black hair while his throat was nibbled on, a pleased smile curving his lips as Jean laid him down with care (always with care).

“ _You are going to torment the hell out of those poor Foxes_ ,” Jean declared while he pulled off his own shirt before crawling on top of Nathaniel.

“ _Of course_ ,” Nathaniel agreed as he shifted about to help Jean remove his clothes as well, more than willing to serve as a distraction for the foreseeable future. “ _Now, enough about **them** , my shadow_,” he said as his fingers once more slid into his lover’s hair and urged Jean forward. “ _How about we practice some more the benefit of finally having a room with a working lock, hmm?_ ”

Jean groaned even as he shimmied out of his sweatpants. “ _You certainly do torment **me** , my flame_,” he declared before he settled once more between Nathaniel’s legs. Yet he smiled, the expression a rare one of joy and affection.

Nathaniel tugged his lover down for another kiss, unwilling to allow anything to harm or upset this precious person again.

*******


	3. Jeaneil - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I'm not 100% this isn't More Things Change... so think of it as you will. It could be, or it could be just Jeaneil in the Nest. Anyway, alludes to the usual BAD THINGS in the Nest but nothing explicit. For the prompt staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in.

*******

It'd been a long day.

It had been a long week, really, (despite – or because of - the accelerated training schedule) one Nathaniel would be grateful to see end. Tetsuji was in a rare mood (if there was such a thing) due to the Ravens only beating the Trojans by three points in the latest playoff game, while Riko and Kevin had something going on with the one defensive dealer, Lydia. Something that made Riko even more of a unpredictable asshole than usual, arrogant and defensive (which was never good) by turns, and Kevin so unbearable that Nathaniel had accepted their Master’s ‘discipline’ rather than listen to his friend rant at him about his blocking technique for another minute longer.

It was enough to make him want to leave the Nest for a few days – except he couldn’t. And that didn’t make anything any better.

So he fell down on what was technically his bed in the room he’d shared with his partner for the last few years while Jean gave him a worried look. “ _Are you done being a fool now_?” he was asked in French.

“ _Thanks for the support_ ,” Nathaniel shot back. “ _So overwhelming_.”

“ _I’ll take that as a ‘no’_.” Jean sat on the edge of his (their) bed and glared. “ _What is your problem? Why are you being even more stubborn than usual_?”

Despite the ache in his shoulders from Tetsuji’s cane and the weariness from practicing Exy for too many hours, Nathaniel forced himself to sit up so he could better face his partner. “ _Because I’m tired of it – you guys won the damn title and instead of being happy, it’s even worse than normal!_ ” Was it so much to hope for some sort of break before the new freshmen arrived, especially with the long stretch of the summer training season ahead of them, of the sixteen hour days and Tetsuji being even more critical than usual while he broke in the rookies?

Nathaniel wasn’t even an official Raven yet, wouldn’t be for another couple of years, yet it seemed that things only got worse as time went on. How bad was it going to be when _his_ freshman year finally arrived?

Jean’s expression smoothed out as he got up and crossed the small room to sit down next to Nathaniel. “ _It’ll get better soon, Tetsuji will calm down in a few more days. At the least, he’ll shift his focus onto the freshmen_.” With only a few inches between them, Nathaniel could smell the spicy deodorant which his partner favored, could feel Jean’s warmth.

“ _Yeah, but what about Riko and Kevin? Something’s going on with them_.”

That made Jean grimace, the expression twisting his full lips and marring his handsome features. “ _Something’s always going on with them_.”

For a moment Nathaniel almost argued about that statement, almost gave clear examples about how just then was _different_ (about Lydia and the two working more in sync for once than with their usual fucked up hierarchy), but he didn’t.

Because while Nathaniel would be the first to admit that he had problems picking up on certain nuances when it came to interpersonal relationships for some reason (because he didn’t seem to grasp them that well in relation to himself, didn’t see how a person could be interested in such things beyond a curious sense with just _anyone_ ), he knew it wasn’t the same with everyone else. And for some reason… it wasn’t the same when _Jean_ was involved.

Because he _noticed_ Jean (the distance between them, if Jean was tired or unhappy or worse), and it wasn’t just the fact that they were _partners_. At least, that was the realization which he’d come to recently, so he didn’t want to pick a fight with the most important person in his life just then (again, and not because they were partners, because Tetsuji had paired them together). “ _It’s more than that_ ,” he finished in a weak voice, a clear indication that for once he wasn’t arguing for the sake of arguing. “ _But whatever, I hope they get it out of their systems soon, before Tetsuji notices_.”

“ _Yes, one hopes, but Riko is usually careful not to unduly antagonize his uncle_.” Jean’s lips twitched upward the slightest amount as he reached out to tuck back a lock of Nathaniel’s bangs, and Nathaniel thought that he probably shouldn’t notice how the black t-shirt his partner was wearing stretched over Jean’s chest to highlight his well-developed pectoral muscles from all those hours spent practicing Exy.

“Uhm.” Nathaniel went still with Jean’s fingers lingering in his hair, which made _Jean_ still, too, and then Jean’s face grew flushed and he went to pull away.

“ _I’m sor_ -“

“ _No_!” Jean attempting to apologize for nothing he did wrong (it was too ingrained in them, dammit – in Jean for every little thing and Nathaniel _only_ for Jean, and they were so _damn_ careful with each other after Riko and Tetsuji and the horrors of the Nest) broke Nathaniel’s paralysis. “It’s… that’s not it,” Nathaniel tried to explain as he latched on to his partner’s hand, mindful not to hold on to tightly. “Uhm,” he repeated as he blushed, the thoughts and words all jumbled inside of his head. “It’s… it’s fine.”

Jean was quiet for a few seconds and then he smiled, the expression so rare and beautiful, as he twisted his hand about so they could entwine their fingers together. “ _All right_ ,” he continued in French as he leaned in a little closer. “ _You shouldn’t blush, you know. It clashes with your hair_.”

“ _Go to hell, you bastard_ ,” Nathaniel laughed at the jab; somehow, Jean could always do that, could make him feel better, could calm him down and restore his balance. Could center him and make everything bearable there in the Nest. Which probably was why he couldn’t stop thinking of his partner, why he leaned in closer, too, why he couldn’t stop staring at those full lips, why there was this odd feeling inside of him just then, something almost anxious yet invigorating.

Jean’s gaze was fixed on his lips, too, grey eyes almost unblinking, and his other hand, large and fingers calloused playing Exy but always gentle, came up to touch Nathaniel’s left cheek right before they bridged the space between them for a kiss.

It was… it was a little odd at first, since Nathaniel had never kissed anyone before, not like that. Jean’s lips were chapped and he tasted like the mint toothpaste they both used, but as always he was gentle, was gentle and steady and intoxicating. Nathaniel ended up in the tall bastard’s lap without even noticing it, that sense of invigoration and intoxication and even enthrallment taking over at the feel of those large hands stroking lightly along his back and through his hair, of those gentle lips on his own and along his jaw.

There was no proper sense of time, but it probably wasn’t too long after they started that Jean pulled away with a sound of regret. When Nathaniel went to complain, he was kissed on the forehead. “Non, enough… enough for now,” Jean told him.

Nathaniel thought about that as he wrapped his arms around Jean’s shoulders, thought about Riko and Kevin and Lydia, about watching the other Ravens go in and out of each other’s rooms all of the time; it wasn’t forbidden to have sex with each other (he ignored the sharp twist inside of him at the thought) in the Nest, just strongly discouraged to form anything ‘permanent’, to have anything that would distract one from Exy.

Looking at Jean, Nathaniel didn’t think that they could do anything ‘casual’ between them. “Now?” he asked, his voice quiet once again.

“For _now_ ,” Jean stressed as he smoothed his hand through Nathaniel’s hair and gave him another one of those smiles. “We need to sleep, and you need to be biddable tomorrow.” He urged Nathaniel’s head forward until their forehead’s touched. “ _I don’t want to watch you be hurt again_.”

“Okay,” Nathaniel promised, mindful of all the new bruises, and smiled when he was given another kiss on his forehead.

No, it wouldn’t be anything casual between them, and they would figure it out. The Moriyamas might have taken so much from them (their freedom, their future), but they wouldn’t take this.

*******


	4. Armies - Andreil - Alt scene 1 - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested an alternative scene to when Andrew proposed to Abram, from Abram's point of view. So here you go.   
> *******

Abram had just fixed himself a cup of tea when Andrew, unusually solemn, draped a blanket over his shoulders before leading him out to the back garden; considering the whole ‘you’re a massive idiot for letting yourself get so sick and making me suffer for a few days’ thing, which Andrew had _mostly_ stopped whinging about, Abram kept his mouth shut and went along with whatever his lover had in mind at the moment.

Which appeared to be sitting out on the bench by the fish pond, one of Abram’s favorite past-times when they had a moment to spare – _his_ , though, and not Andrew’s, which was why he was surprised when his lover made a comment about being tired of being inside so much and wanting to sit out back for a little while. Abram settled on the bench and waited for the familiar complaint about ‘stupid’ fish or something, even as he squirmed a little closer to Andrew’s side and slumped down enough so he could rest his head on his lover’s shoulder.

Things were quiet for a couple of minutes as they sat together on the unseasonably warm late autumn day, Abram utterly content to sip his tea and enjoy the peace and quiet, the feel of Andrew’s solid presence next to him and the safety he represented. Between the warmth of the blanket and the sun, Abram was ready to doze off at any moment, he felt so relaxed, but he struggled to remain awake in case Andrew wanted to talk. “The fish are getting fat," he complained while he tossed them some pellets, just to give himself something to do. "Bren always feeds them too much." There was a small voice in his head reminding him that _Bren_ wasn’t the only one overfeeding the things, but he always blamed their plump forms on his friend.

It was quiet for a moment before Andrew answered. "I don't know, they're about the perfect size for dinner now," he said, and huffed when Abram gave a slight jab to his side which sadly had no effect because of all of the layers between them, though it earned Abram being hugged closer.

"Not funny," he muttered; he didn’t understand what Andrew had against the poor fish after all this time, when they were so peaceful to look at and all they had to do was come out and feed them once a day.

"Neither is sitting in a foreign hospital for three days." There was a distinct bite of bitterness in Andrew’s deep voice just then, suggesting that it might not be the fish that someone was upset about, which made Abram sigh and huddle a little deeper in the warm, soft blanket.

"I keep saying 'I'm sorry' about that and that I'm... I'm working on it, all right? What else can I do?" He’d promised to speak up when he was sick again in the future and not accidentally shut Andrew out, to work on the whole ‘I’m fine’ thing. It was just _so difficult_ after all those years with his mother, after his father… it was difficult to believe that he had a safe (relatively speaking) life with Andrew and could say such things when suffering in silence had been the rule for so long.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t think much of Andrew reaching into his pocket for something (cigarettes, probably) until an object was dropped onto his lap, and blinked at it in confusion ( _not_ cigarettes). "You tell me 'yes',” Andrew said in a bored tone.

Abram could only stare at the box for several seconds before he reached for it, disbelieving what it might possibly be – a joke of some sort? – and struggled to open the small jewelry box due to the fact that his hands were trembling. He half-expected there to be a dog-tag (‘if found, don’t return’) or something else ridiculous inside of it, and felt his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the damn pneumonia when he caught sight of a simple platinum ring.

It looked to be an engagement or wedding ring.

"But...." Abram found it difficult to breathe all of a sudden. "This is-" It had to be a joke, right? Half of the time Andrew refused to even acknowledge that there was a ‘thing’ between them.

And the other half Andrew was willing to leave mass carnage behind to ensure that nothing came even close to harming Abram.

"I'm not going to fight with some stupid doctor about visitation rights ever again," Andrew said without looking at Abram, his attention focused on the bloody pond he bitched about all of the time. "Or any other shit like that. We'll go down to the courthouse or whatever they do here, make it official and that's that." He sounded as if he didn’t care about anything, but Abram could feel the tension in his lover’s body where he leaned against it.

Abram looked down at the ring again (definitely an engagement/wedding ring, and lovely in its simplicity), took as deep a breath as he could manage then closed the box (there was no need to try it on, not if Andrew had bought it). "We'll need another one for you, right?" Abram said as he thought about engagement rings and weddings and… it was all so _very much_ and made his head ache as he rested it back on Andrew's shoulder, as well as him feel breathless again for an entirely different reason than the pneumonia. A very _good_ reason. "Unless... do you want a ring?" he asked with some uncertainty, since it occurred to him that he rarely saw Andrew wear any jewelry. It didn’t matter to him if his lover didn’t want one, not when Andrew had _asked_.

"Is that a 'yes'?" Now a bit of impatience crept into Andrew’s deep voice, the first sign of emotion since Andrew had proposed.

Abram laughed a little at that, at how fitting it was – he was probably lucky he hadn’t gotten the ring chucked at his head, all things considered, especially after Monaco. "Yes. It's a 'yes'," he declared as he struggled to catch his breath. "It's always 'yes' with you." He would have willingly spent the rest of his life with Andrew without any rings or legal documents, but this… this made him happy in a way he never would have expected to feel. To know that there was indeed ‘something’ between them – beyond the house and the cats and job and the hotcakes.

Perhaps it wasn’t necessary, but Abram wasn’t turning it down. He was never turning Andrew down.

He continued to smile when Andrew reached over to tug on a strand of his hair. "Idiot," his lover complained, which made him laugh some more. "Fine, we'll get a ring for me, too. Nothing fancy, though." There was a slight frown on Andrew’s face as he agreed to the ring, but Abram thought he was pleased to give in on it, to be asked about it – else he’d never wear one.

The thought of Andrew wearing some ostentatious piece of jewelry, something like they’d seen on _Ally,_ made him chuckle. "Somehow I can't see you going for a bunch of diamonds or anything. No, we'll go together and you can pick it out." A matching band, most likely.

It was quiet after that, Abram content to sit there with Andrew while he held on to the ring box, so warm and comfortable, and thought about where they could go shopping; it would probably be best to avoid Harrods, if they didn’t want Liliya and hence the family to find out and be bothersome about everything.

Andrew’s quiet voice broke into his thoughts. "If you don't like it, we can-"

What? "No, it's _perfect_ ," Abram insisted as he cradled the box to his chest in a protective manner, displeased at the insinuation that he was unhappy with the ring. "But... when will we do it?" He looked up at Andrew as he gave voice to his thoughts of trying to plan the wedding with his family and their job.

The frown deepened as Andrew wrapped an arm around Abram’s shoulders. "The sooner the better. Next weekend." There was a definitive bite to Andrew’s words, as if he was waiting for some sort of trouble to drop on their head and wanted to get the event out of the way before it happened.

Abram could understand that, considering their jobs and what his family did… but, well, wasn’t the point of weddings to have your family and friends there to witness them? Also, he thought that you needed at least one witness, though he wasn’t all that certain about the requirements since he’d never attended a wedding or planned to have one.

Not that he imagined his family – well, other than Uncle Stuart – wouldn’t react gracefully to the news about him getting married or agree to just show up to be a witness. The family (and Stuart) had settled down a bit and allowed him and Andrew some space in the last year or so… but this was a big step and they probably would insist on being involved somehow or want… oh _hell_.

"What, did one of the damn fish die or something?” Andrew asked with a hint of concern as he gave Abram’s shoulders a gentle squeeze while looking over at him.

"No." Abram shook his head as he sat up a little. "Just... we're probably going to need to a nice long assignment, once Stuart finds out." He tapped his index finger against the box and held it up to show it to Andrew. "About this.”

"So what?" Andrew asked as his hand wrapped around the back of Abram’s neck, so warm and reassuring even if his expression was now a bit sour. "He'll accept it eventually."

"It's not that, it's just...." Abram took a slow breath before he turned to give his lover an encouraging smile.

Of course Andrew figured it out within seconds. "Seriously?" he asked with evident displeasure, his fingers twitching against Abram’s nape for a moment.

"Maybe just him and Jamie?” Abram argued, intent to show that he didn’t plan on the whole organization to be there for the event, or even for it to be an event.. “What about Nicky, for you?” Andrew’s cousin visited all of the time, so wouldn’t he want Nicky and Erik there? “Don’t we need a witness for it?" That was basically his last and best argument… and he wouldn’t be surprised if his lover said they’d just grab someone from the street.

It was quiet for a few seconds while Andrew debated everything, while Abram was still and expected to hear ‘no guests’. Then Andrew sighed and shook his head. "We tell them the day of - the night before for Nicky and Erik - and if they can't make it, that's it." His tone made it clear that he wasn’t in the mood for arguing or compromising. 

That was fine with Abram, who smiled in delight that his lover had agreed to that much. "Fair enough.” He hummed a little as he once more tucked himself against Andrew’s side so they could watch the fish swim about and listen to the water fountain for a little longer.

He was about to fall asleep when Andrew nudged him in the side. "Aren't you going to put that on?" Andrew was back to sounding bored, but Abram knew that he’d never have brought up the ring if he didn’t think it was important.

"Hmm, doesn't seem right when you don't have one,” Abram told him with a slight smile. "Besides, what if someone sees it before next Saturday?"

Andrew’s faint frown smoothed out at that. "Maybe Lloyd can reassign us to Russia or something,” he muttered.

The comment, along with the thought of how overbearing his family would be at the news of them getting married, made Abram chuckle… which soon turned into a wheeze (he would be so _happy_ when he fully recovered). It was nice sitting outside and with Andrew, though, that he protested a little at first heading back inside, but Andrew was insistent about them returning to where it was warmer, along with Abram handing over the ring. He didn’t get it back until he swore to Abram that he was just holding on to it until the ceremony, complete with much eye-rolling.

Yet Abram noticed that he took care with the box when tucking it back into his pocket, and gave Abram a lingering kiss before pulling him off of the bench.

Once they were inside, Andrew made him have another dose of the sickeningly sweet cough syrup, and King came over for some attention. Abram gave her a quick pet before they headed upstairs, where he draped his arms over his lover’s shoulders once they were in their bedroom. “You’re going to be stuck with me forever.”

“Not if you keep doing stupid shit,” Andrew shot back, but his tone was mild and he wrapped his arms around Abram’s hips, so Abram didn’t take offense at the remark. Especially when it was followed by a concerned order for him to warm up in a hot bath or shower after sitting outside for too long like the idiot he was.

“Soon.” Abram leaned in to nuzzle Andrew’s jaw as desire pooled inside of him, potent and insistent; it had been a couple of weeks since they’d done anything, between the mission and him falling sick, and he couldn’t wait any longer after Andrew’s little ‘surprise’. “Yes or no?” he breathed out as he trailed his fingers along Andrew’s firm arms, asking the question to show that he wanted his lover, that he felt that there wasn’t a need to wait any longer for him to feel ‘better’.

Andrew stared back and answered without any hesitation. “Yes.”

Abram smiled as he was kissed with a ferocity that made up for all the ‘idiots’ and lectures he’d received the past several days, and moaned at the feel of his lover’s hands sliding beneath his sweater. He was so happy right then, so filled with joy at the thought that Andrew wanted to be with him for the rest of their lives.

Abram was determined to ensure that Andrew never regretted the decision – not the man who had finally given him a proper home and a future, who had made him start living after so many years of existing. He would indeed give anything to Andrew that a ‘yes’ was such a simple thing – especially when he already was Andrew’s a thousand times over.

*******


	5. Clouds - Andrew and Stuart - T rating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I've received a prompt asking for Andrew meeting Stuart in the Clouds universe, so here it is. I know people want more of this one and I do plan on adding to it in the future, so consider this a glimpse of things to come until I backfill the timeline a bit.
> 
> Hmm, I don't think there's much in the way of triggers here, other than vague references to Andrew's and Neil's past (and more Neil's than anything).  
> *******

*******

Andrew sipped his coffee while a middle-aged man in a plain blue sweatshirt and a cap pulled so far down his brow he kept having to tilt his head back to see shuffled back and forth in front of the counter while Neil fetched one of _those_ parcels for him and nearly forgot to take his coffee with him. Andrew exchanged a look with his… his boyfriend (that still took some getting used to), where Neil gave him a slight smile and a shrug before he resumed cleaning the counter.

Andrew worked a little more on yet another essay for his one history class while Neil dealt with two older ladies who had apparently stumbled onto The Bolt-Hole in their wanderings that day and might become regulars judging from the pleased noises they made over their tea and desserts. Still, they weren’t too loud or bothersome and Andrew supposed the place needed customers other than him to keep up some air of legitimacy – that and they didn’t stay too long.

Neil cleaned their table then came over to his with that slight smile on his face and a new cup of mocha in his hands. “Almost finished with your homework?” he asked while he set the mug down by Andrew’s laptop and picked up the empty one.

“Just another page, so I’ll be done by the time you close up,” Andrew said, which made the smile strengthen. Giving in to impulse, he hooked a finger into one of the straps of Neil’s black apron and tugged him closer. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Neil said without any hesitation as he leaned in a little closer for a kiss that was little more than a press of lips, not when they were in a shop where anyone could walk in at a given moment.

Still, there was Neil inviting Andrew back to his apartment most weekends and nights to sit and talk, to cook meals together (Andrew had worked in a restaurant in Charleston, Neil knew the basics after living alone) and venture out a little (Stirling for Andrew’s class, a couple of the local parks just to walk around).

To slowly map out something between them, to deal with their various issues; Neil accepted Andrew’s need for borders, for consent, in a way that made Andrew wonder if he was real at times (and want to track down his parents and everyone else who hurt him at others). It hadn’t gone far beyond kissing and his hands beneath Neil’s shirt yet, but it was enough to make him keep bringing up the link about registering full time at the University of Manchester, just like Professor Anton had been arguing for him to do the last couple of months.

It wasn’t like Aaron didn’t have a life of his own now.

He’d gotten through half a page more (and Neil had dropped off a brownie for him, complete with whipped cream and a wink) when his phone rang, which was a rare occurrence. He almost ignored it when he saw the caller before he figured he might as well get it over with. “Go away,” he told his cousin.

“Aw come on, is that the way you greet someone you adore?” Nicky wailed, ever the dramatic bastard.

“Yes, and I don’t adore you.”

“You know you do,” Nicky grumbled. “So… how are things going? I assume since you’re not coming for a visit that you and your sweetie are doing well?” He sounded hopeful for some reason, which Andrew tolerated since he wasn’t whining about him coming to Cologne for a weekend anymore.

Andrew glanced over at Neil, who was busy mopping the floor in preparation of the coffee shop closing for the weekend; Neil seemed to notice the attention and glanced up at him, his dark-dyed hair falling onto his ridiculously big eyes and a tentative smile on his face. “They’re going,” was all he said as that damn fluttering sensation filled his chest.

“Andrew….” Nicky sounded exasperated for a moment and then he chuckled. “Okay, I’m going to take that as a ‘good’ because I know you. Am I ever going to get the chance to meet him? Erik and I can come visit for-“

“ _No_.” Andrew didn’t mean for it to come out that harsh, enough for Neil to give him a worried look or for Nicky to go silent on the other end. “I… let me talk to him,” he said as he fumbled for his cigarettes, well aware of everything Nicky had done for him – him and Aaron. “Don’t pull your surprise shit, okay?” He didn’t want Nicky and Erik to just show up out of the blue and freak Neil out, especially with how _extreme_ Nicky could be.

“All right.” Nicky sounded happy again. “I promise, no ninja attacks on you and your sweetie! Just let us know when we can finally meet this precious unicorn who-“

“Nicky, shut up,” Andrew told his cousin. “And don’t _ever_ call him that again – _any_ of those things. Now leave me alone, I’m busy.” He hung up and put his phone on silent.

Neil was quiet until he came over to Andrew’s table. “What does Nicky want?” He’d heard Andrew’s story about his cousin, about Nicky stepping in to keep him and Aaron out of Luther’s hands, about what Nicky’s father had done to him and how Nicky now lived in Germany with Erik.

“To meet you,” Andrew admitted, curious to see how Neil would react to that. “I told him I’d talk to you first.” They’d only been… _whatever_ was between them, it had only been a few weeks.

“Oh.” Neil chewed on his bottom lip for a moment while he held on to the mop with both hands then shrugged. “It would be nice? I mean, to meet someone related to you who’s talkative?” There was a hint of a smile on his lips as he resumed cleaning the floor. “What a concept.”

“No tip for you,” Andrew called out as he felt an odd tension leave him which he hadn’t realized had been there until Neil had answered about Nicky.

“I’m heartbroken. Finish your essay so we can head to the Art Gallery once I close up.”

Andrew pretended to flick ash on the clean floor and got a rude gesture in return, then focused on finishing his essay; their plans that afternoon were to drop his things at Neil’s apartment and feed Pita, then hit the Manchester Art Gallery for a couple of hours and pick up something to eat before returning to the apartment.

He’d never thought he’d look forward to sleeping on a couch and dealing with a possessive demon of a cat, but such things happened when an impossible pipedream of a young man stumbled into one’s life, he supposed. An improbable, gorgeous young man busy boxing up some brownies and chocolate cake Andrew liked so he could enjoy them later that weekend.

Perhaps this was all one big joke on his part, one big ‘fuck you’ where he ended up with hyperglycemia and thirty pounds heavier when he returned to the States, along with irrefutable proof that he was meant to be alone for the rest of his life.

“Uhm, did you want the torte as well? I know you like it but you keep complaining about having to work out because of your trousers being tight.”

Then Neil did that thing where he seemed to read Andrew’s mind and Andrew pulled up the damn link again, along with Anton’s office hours….

“No torte,” Andrew told him as he drafted an email to Anton about meeting on Tuesday.

“Okay.”

Andrew hit ‘send’ before he could second-guess himself then shut down his laptop so he could pack everything into his backpack; Bren should be there soon to take them to Neil’s apartment. Everything was put away and he was debating another cigarette when the door opened to admit Neil’s chauffer/minder… along with an older man whom Andrew had never seen.

Bren didn’t appear happy for some reason, which immediately put Andrew on edge, while the stranger appeared in a bad mood. Yet Neil smiled as he came around the counter, hands busy pulling off his apron. “Uncle Stuart! You didn’t tell me you’d be in town.”

So that was Neil’s ‘Uncle Stuart’ – a middle-aged man just a little taller than Neil with a slender build as well (though more compact than leggy runner), pale grey eyes and blond hair touched with grey. Andrew caught a similar feature here and there – the full bottom lips, the straight eyebrows, the long, slender fingers – but the main resemblance was the lack of height, leanness… and keen intelligence, judging from how ‘Stuart’ kept glancing around in-between studying Neil.

“Had some business in the area so I figured I’d stop by to check in on you, kiddo,” he said as he gave his nephew a hug; Neil hesitated only a moment in returning it, but Andrew had the impression that it was more a case of his friend being unused to such gestures and not that Stuart bothered him. “I hear you’re doing a good job and the classes are going well.”

“I’m trying,” Neil said as he hung his head, never one to put himself forward; something seemed to occur to him as he glanced around the quiet coffee shop. “Uhm… do you want something? I can-“

“I’m just stopping by, but you can run to the store and fetch me some smokes, yeah?” He held out a folded bill to Neil. “You know what brand. Bren will go with you.”

Andrew had a feeling he knew why Neil’s uncle had decided to ‘stop by’, which was soon confirmed. “Ah, okay.” Neil looked over his uncle’s shoulder at Andrew. “We’ll be right-“

“ _Just_ you and Bren,” Stuart insisted. “Me and your friend will wait here.”

Neil was quiet at that while Bren shifted back and forth in obvious discomfort. “Uncle… I don’t… that’s-“

Stuart shoved the money at Neil and clicked his tongue. “He’ll be fine, I promise. Go get the smokes and come right back, Bren tells me you have a date tonight.” His face twisted at the last two words as if he found them distasteful to say.

Neil studied his uncle for a couple of seconds before he sighed. “You _promise_ , right?”

“Yes.” Stuart glanced upward as if beseeching patience for a moment before his expression softened. “I won’t do too much damage.”

“Okay, that’s not helping,” Bren said in a rush as he motioned for Neil to join him. “He’s just gonna talk, all right? It’s a _talk_ thing, so let’s get going.”

Neil didn’t appear convinced by the two men as he glanced at Andrew again, who gave him a slight nod to show that it was okay; only then did he pocket the money and leave the shop with Bren. As soon his friend (boyfriend) was gone, Andrew shook out a cigarette and lit it while he stared down Stuart Hatford.

The man didn’t look all that impressed as he leaned against the counter with his arms folded over his chest, dressed in an expensive grey suit as if he was some legitimate businessman. “Andrew Minyard, twenty-one years old, criminology major. Born in California and put into the childcare system by one Tilda Minyard, nee Hemmick. You bounced around various foster homes until you were thirteen and spent three years in juvie for destruction of property and petty larceny, until remanded into your mother’s custody in South Carolina.” Stuart didn’t sound pleased as he recounted the ‘highlights’ of Andrew’s life, his expression flat and eyes sharp as if he waited to provoke some sort of reaction. “When she died less than a year later in a car crash you managed to survive, your cousin Nicholas Hemmick assumed custody. Then you and your twin brother got scholarships to Palmetto State University, and you end up here, in Manchester, for a year studying abroad. You, a troublemaker with a past and nothing to your name, end up _here_ , dating my nephew. I’m not happy about that.”

Andrew flicked ash into the small tray on the table. “Really? I couldn’t tell, not when you show up and chase Neil away to talk to me, do the whole ‘I looked into you’ spiel and everything. What’s next? Threaten to break my kneecaps if I don’t leave him alone?” How terribly cliché.

Stuart stared at him for a couple of seconds then snorted as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes of his own – a full pack, Andrew noted. “Okay, you don’t scare easily. Bren did try to tell me that about you.”

How nice to know; Andrew thought that he got along with the bodyguard and that there weren’t any problems between them. “No, I don’t, especially not over anything ridiculous like this.” There was nothing in his past that Stuart could throw at him to scare him off – he’d _lived_ through it after all, bore its scars and dealt with its nightmares all of the time.

“Ridiculous?” Stuart pushed away from the counter and glared. “This isn’t a joke, you little prick. Has Abr- has Neil said anything about his mother to you?”

“Yes, he has,” Andrew gritted out as he smashed his cigarette into the tray while a rare spark of anger burned in his chest; he’d caught the start of Neil’s middle name, the name he’d confessed to Andrew just a week ago as they’d lay on his bed. It had been late at night and Andrew hadn’t wanted to go lie down alone on the couch nor had Neil wanted him to leave just yet, and they’d been talking about random things that had entered their heads (had tried to find something not too painful for once). Neil told him about how his mother would call him ‘Abram’, the one constant name among all the aliases, the middle name _she’d_ given him, the name she (and he) didn’t hate.

But Andrew didn’t reveal that he knew about it, didn’t betray Neil’s trust just because his uncle was being an asshole. “I know she married an abusive bastard and ran away with Neil because he was beating the shit out of both of them, and you’re helping him now that she’s dead.” There was more to it than that, bits and pieces Neil revealed in trickles as they grew closer, as the trust strengthened between then, but again, Andrew wasn’t going to say anything more just because Neil’s uncle was being overprotective for no good reason.

Still, he could tell it was more than Stuart had expected. “Then you should realize he doesn’t need some punk in his life who’s just looking for a pretty face to enjoy while he’s overseas for a few months.”

Andrew found himself on his feet before he realized that he intended to move and had to force himself to keep his palms flat on the table; he knew that Bren was armed and he was willing to bet that Stuart was, too, and that Neil would be more than upset if he came back and found his uncle bleeding. “If you think Neil would allow himself to be used like that, you’re a fucking imbecile and have no clue at all about your nephew.”

Stuart had twitched at his sudden movement and dropped his arms to his sides, his gaze intent as he watched Andrew. “What, nothing to say for yourself?”

“Why? You’re not going to believe a word I say,” Andrew argued. “You don’t know me, but you should damn well know Neil.”

“Huhn.” Stuart went to drop the cigarette held between his right fingers then seemed to think better of it; he inhaled deeply from it while he regarded Andrew for several seconds. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t care.”

Stuart’s eyes narrowed at that. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt Neil, including some Yank who’s just fooling around with him to pass the time. If you do more than that? Broken kneecaps will be the least of your troubles.”

Andrew put his cigarettes away while he held the bastard’s gaze. “Get used to me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right, you’re headed back to the States in June,” Stuart said with a smile. “About two months now. Such a shame to see you go.”

All Andrew did was stare back until Stuart’s expression grew uncertain. It was quiet between them for over a minute. “I’m serious, if you hurt him, I will _hurt_ _you_ ,” Stuart said in a low, menacing manner.

Andrew continued to gaze back at him without any concern.

Stuart had taken to muttering beneath his breath (something about cocky Yanks) when Neil and Bren (the latter panting as if he’d been forced to run) burst into the shop. “I got them!” Neil waved the pack of cigarettes in the air as he glanced around, his dark eyes quick to latch on to Andrew. His shoulders slumped in relief and he all but threw the cigarettes at his uncle. “Uhm… everything all right?”

Stuart grunted as he caught the flimsy excuse to get his nephew out of the coffee shop for the damn shovel talk, or whatever the hell it had been. “Yeah, thanks.” He shoved the pack into the left pocket of his coat and reached out to tousle Neil’s disheveled hair. “I better get going, but I’ll be back this way on Monday. How about dinner then?”

“All right,” Neil agreed, probably because Andrew was busy with stuff on campus that night. “Let me know when you’ll be by.”

“I’ll do that.” Stuart nodded to a still flushed Bren on his way out and ignored Andrew, which was fine. As soon as he was gone, Neil hurried over to Andrew’s side.

“Are you all okay? What did he do? Nothing bad, right?” The words came out in a rush and Neil’s hands flitted through the air as if he wanted to touch Andrew in reassurance but wouldn’t.

“I’m fine,” Andrew reassured his boyfriend (still weird), reaching out to slide his right hand around the back of Neil’s neck to settle him. “In a rather fucked up way, he’s just looking out for you.”

“By talking to you alone?” Neil appeared confused by that, but then again, he hadn’t been involved with anyone before Andrew so there’d been no need for Stuart to do his ‘don’t hurt my nephew’ routine before, had there? “All right.”

“Ah, he’s just… uhm, making sure Andrew’s on the up and up,” Bren said as he wiped at his sweaty brow. “I’ll go turn off everything in the back, okay?”

“Okay.” Neil frowned at his friend’s departing back before he looked at Andrew. “Why would Stuart do that? _I’m_ the one going out with you and I don’t have a problem with things.”

Andrew tugged Neil a little closer. “He’s watching out for you, or thinks that he’s watching out for you.”

Neil’s brows drew together for a moment and then he smiled. “Oh, like-“ He seemed to catch himself, leaving Andrew to wonder what he’d been about to say. “He doesn’t have to worry, not about you.”

“You sound so certain.” Andrew wasn’t sure he liked that; he had no intention of hurting Neil, in playing him false, but there were no sure things in life. He wasn’t used to people thinking that _he_ was a sure thing in life.

Once again he was graced with a shy, sweet smile which made his heart do ridiculous things. “About you? Yes.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Andrew muttered, yet he tugged Neil even closer and felt his traitorous heart race when the fool murmured ‘yes’ to him before their lips met.

He hoped that Bren took his time turning off the lights.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> There you go! LOL, protective Stuart will ever be protective!Stuart. And I imagine Bren yelling at Neil for being a fast little shit as they raced back to the coffee shop after getting the cigarettes (he's not built for speed like a beloved runner of ours). 
> 
> Ah, will try to load an older prompt or two since it was a busier weekend than I'd hoped and this seems to be the only new one right now. BAH. I've a nice list of ones to write and will work on them - though fair warning, I've some nice IchiNeil ones coming up.
> 
> As always, the comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> *******


	6. Armies - Andreil Grout - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Andreil/Armies prompt, this one was for Andreil, Armies (ha, obviously) and the boys having an argument and one of the cats knocking over the wine which leads to the defiling of Abram's precious grout. Or at least I think there was to be an argument. It seems like a lot of these prompts have the boys arguing with each other, but they're married now (not that being married means you argue a lot) and they've settled down so they're comfortable enough now to LET themselves argue with each other when they're stressed and unhappy (that's where I was going with it) instead of keeping everything inside.
> 
> Anyway, here you go. Trigger for violence, not described in detail (they are secret agents), and swearing. And grout abuse.  
> *******

*******

Andrew figured it was a little late for denials, for ‘this is nothing’s when he’d gone ahead and married the idiot, when there was a ring around his finger (most days, and hung on a chain around his neck the others) and a townhouse in both their names and a bunch of legal documents that went with a marriage certificate and sharing property and having a job that carried certain risks.

He was Andrew _Hatford_ , after all, husband of one Abram Hatford, married for almost three and a half years and involved together for nearly five. They shared a home and family of lunatics (unfortunately) and two cats and a bunch of fish which wouldn’t die no matter how much Andrew encouraged Bren to overfeed them (they only got bigger, dammit).

Most days? Most days, Andrew was… well, he accepted all of that. He stopped denying that yes, it was his life, that such things had actually happened to him, that he’d found someone impossible like Abram and (at the risk of ruining everything) had found some sort of contentment at last. Had found a home.

And some days (such as the last few), he thought that Abram was determined to push those whole ‘til death do us part’ vows a little too far, oh yes.

If there was such a thing as the after-life or heaven, Bee was laughing her ass off.

It had started in Russia; they’d been sent to Moscow to track down and deal with a double-agent who’d stolen some security codes and ran. They’d argued for days over who would handle the clean-up while searching for Tayler, with Abram being a stubborn fool and claiming that Andrew was an overprotective prat.

All Andrew knew was that they were dealing with a traitor and Abram stood out a little too much, that and he’d crossed paths with Reg Tayler once while working with Lloyd and Rita on some documents. Which was why when Peter Heuer, one of their agents stationed as a ‘legal attaché’ in the British embassy in Moscow asked Abram for his assistance in translating some calls they’d just so happened to ‘pick up’ from the Lubyanka, Andrew wasted no time making a call of his own. He reached out to Katie Chaly, another local agent, who was only too willing to go out in the field for a bit.

It took most of the night to track Tayler down and get him somewhere for Andrew to shoot the traitor in the head (not his preferred method of a knife in the base of the skull, but that took strength and skill and would be a sign that someone knew what they were doing – that MI6 had caught up to Tayler, whereas a bullet was more ambiguous), and of _course_ Abram was in one of his rare snits when Andrew returned to their hotel room. There were some scathing comments about ‘so nice to see you’re alive’ and ‘have a new partner, do you?’ and it only got worse after that.

One thing Andrew had learned over the years was that it never was a wise thing, getting into a verbal argument with a polyglot and a translator. Not soon enough he sat on the plane as they returned to the UK, a glass of whiskey clenched in his right hand while his ‘dear’ husband pointedly ignored him, apparently done calling him an overbearing asshole in over half a dozen languages for the time being.

Bren picked them up at the airport, as always, and noticed the tension between them within minutes. “Ah, bad day at work?” he asked with a nervous laugh.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t do much,” Abram remarked in a snide tone. “Apparently, I’m just supposed to sit around in the hotel and drink tea or something while Andrew does the _real_ work.”

“…okay,” Bren said in a quiet voice while he huddled in his leather jacket as if to make as small of a target as possible.

“Turn around,” Andrew told him. “Someone needs to go back to Russia to drop off their shitty attitude.”

“What, did you forget to do something else there?” Abram asked as he folded his arms over his chest (which put his hands near his armbands, something both Andrew and Bren in the front seat noticed). “By all means, go ahead, I’ll be at home knitting or something since I’m not good for anything else, it seems.”

“Be sure to knit a gag for yourself, would you, _babe_?”

“How about a nice shroud for _you, hon_?”

“Hey! I just got the car detailed, so no carnage in it,” Bren muttered before he turned up the radio as if in hopes of drowning out the argument. It just meant that Andrew and Abram put the ‘fighting’ on hold until they reached the townhouse and were all but thrown through the front door, along with the bags, before Bren sped off.

Andrew took the luggage to their bedroom to give them a little space while Abram fussed over the cats, and by the time he’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a loose cotton shirt then went downstairs, Abram had opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass (one), which was set on the counter while he held King in his arms. He murmured something quiet to the purring cat in Japanese (probably more ‘Andrew is prat’ nonsense) before he set her down on the floor, where she could join a prancing Sir.

“Telling them about how mean I am?” Andrew asked as he went to fetch the bottle of whiskey.

“Promising them more cat treats if they smother you in your sleep,” Abram said with a slight smile. “You know, since I’m too helpless to do anything myself.”

And they were back at it, what fun. “Yes, a veritable innocent you are, _babe_.” Andrew didn’t stop pouring until the glass was almost too full to pick up. “You need to be locked up for your own protection. Too bad we don’t have a nice dungeon here for you.”

Abram gasped while he snatched up the glass of wine. “You actually think I can be left alone like that? How will I remember to do things like breathe without you there to tell me, _hon_?”

“I’m counting on that,” Andrew told the snarky bastard in a flat manner after he finished the whiskey in a few gulps, which earned him a rude gesture.

“Oh how you suffer having to drag along someone useless like me,” Abram complained after he put the glass down and refilled it, his expression and tone one of pure bitterness. “I mean, how did I ever manage before you?” While he went on with his mini-tirade, Sir stood up on his back legs and pawed at the idiot’s right thigh for attention, which earned him an absentminded ear scratch. “So kind of you to put up with me like this.”

All right, this was getting ridiculous. “Fine, next time you can get shot as soon as the bastard recognizes you. Is that what you want?” Not that Andrew would ever allow it.

Abram glared at him. “That wouldn’t have happened, I would have-“

“You would have gotten _shot_ ,” Andrew insisted with a bit more force. “Tayler would have spotted you even if you changed your hair or used contact lenses and that would have been that.”

“No, why do you have to assume the worst?” Abram glared at him and did the arm-folding thing. “I can-“

Sir, tired of being ignored, meowed in a plaintive manner and jumped up on the counter so he could butt his head against a distracted Abram’s arm… and knocked the glass of wine onto the tiled floor with his lashing tail before Abram could do anything. Both of them stared in shock at the red wine spreading out from the broken glass (and King’s vanishing form) while Sir continued to meow for attention.

“Oh no, your precious grout, _babe_ ,” Andrew quipped in a deadpan manner while he took in Abram’s shocked expression.

For a moment he thought Abram was going to throw a knife at him – that or the bottle of wine since the floor was already ruined – and then his husband began to laugh as he picked up Sir. The sound was tinged with exhaustion and a little strained, but Abram’s expression was amused. “You little shit,” he chided the cat before taking care (since his feet were bare) to step around the broken glass and wine to set Sir down on the floor near the living room. “Go play while we clean this up.”

“What’s this ‘we’?” Andrew complained, yet he went to fetch some towels to pick up the glass before a certain idiot cut his feet stepping in it.

“Right, because I’m so helpless-“ Abram’s laugh that time was clearer when Andrew threw one of the towels at him. “What?”

“ _Enough_.” Andrew draped the rest of the towels over the glass and then hauled Abram over to the island, where it looked to be clear of the mess. “Tayler was paranoid as fuck and it was difficult enough to get him to go with Chaly, so drop it, okay? Next time… we’ll talk about it more, but you’re still not putting yourself at unnecessary risk just to do a job,” he stated as he wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist.

Abram chewed on his bottom lip for a couple of seconds before he sighed and leaned a little against Andrew. “Dammit, if _I_ was at risk did you ever think that you could have been, too? Yet you went off without me.”

Possibly, but Andrew was there to watch Abram’s back, to shield and protect him, after all; yes, Abram was a good agent and fighter, but he was the linguist, was the one who did a better job of charming people when they needed information while Andrew was the muscle. “I was careful.” Though he hadn’t thought about how Abram would feel about being unable to watch Andrew’s back, just that his husband wouldn’t get shot upon being recognized.

“Right.” Abram shook his head. “Damn prat.”

“Hmm.” Andrew leaned in and, after a gentle nudge to his idiot’s nose, was kissed with a thoroughness which he took to mean that the matter was finally dropped. Considering that they’d spent the last seven hours in airports and flying, and several hours before that wrapping up things in Moscow (more for Andrew), they were tired and needed to shower before getting some sleep, all they did was kiss.

Still, it made something settle inside of Andrew’s chest, made him feel relaxed and at peace (dammit).

“Note that it was one of _your_ cats that ruined _your_ grout,” Andrew pointed out when they broke apart, Abram with a pleased little murmur and a loose weight against him.

“Why are they always _my_ cats when something happens?” Abram complained as he twisted about a little to glance at the mess, his hands flat against Andrew’s chest; the towels had soaked up most of the wine, which made it obvious that his dire warnings about grout and stains had finally come to pass. “Dammit, I’m not in the mood to deal with that.” He sighed as he rested his head against Andrew’s left shoulder.

Well, Andrew certainly wasn’t going to deal with it, either, other that have Abram pick up the towels (his cats, his wine) and make sure there wasn’t any spare bits of glass on the kitchen floor. No inclination, and honestly, not much time; they’d have to report to Lloyd soon enough and would only have a few days to catch their breath before he gave them something else to do. “Call Stuart.” Abram’s uncle would be happy to do something for his darling Ram.

“Hmm.” Abram pulled away again and seemed to think about it. “Maybe just go with hardwood? Then we won’t have to worry about it in the future.” He glanced over his shoulder again, at the cats who were hovering nearby, probably in hopes of treats. “We could see what Santiago thinks?”

It took Andrew a moment to remember that was Marcus’ nephew, an earnest young man who’d done some cabinetry work in the garage a few months ago and various projects for others in the ‘family’; it was time to shower and get some sleep. “That’s fine.” He didn’t really care what they did with the floor, as long as Abram was happy and bothered to ask him first.

“Okay.” Abram leaned in for another kiss, that time brief, and seemed to be of the same opinion about needing sleep. “I’ll call Marcus later.”

Andrew made Abram wait to take care of the mess until he swept the area clean of any glass shards, and gave the cats their treats while there was much sighing and a quick attempt to do something with the grout. He pulled a frowning idiot away after a few minutes, tired and wanting to finally wash off the time spent on a plane then crawl into bed.

They went into the large shower together, taking turns to wash each other and exchange kisses as their hands trailed along arms and shoulders and chests. Abram laughed after he nibbled on Andrew’s neck and was pushed beneath the heavy spray of water at the resulting shiver; it was more affection than desire, was affirmation of the trust and want and abiding, deep connection there was between the two of them.

“Maybe I should take up knitting,” Abram murmured once they were curled up in bed together, Andrew pressed against his back and the cats tucked against their legs. “Might be interesting.”

Andrew snorted at that bit of nonsense. “Cats in the yarn and Stuart pestering you to make him something.”

“Hm, true. But could always stab someone with ‘em.” Abram yawned as he hugged Andrew’s right arm tighter around his chest. “The needles.”

“You’ve got enough knives on you, tongue included,” Andrew argued. Last thing he needed was his idiot even _more_ armed and dangerous.

He fell asleep to the faint sound of Abram’s laughter.

******* 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> I'm sure Abram will find something to fuss about when they get the hardwood floors.


	7. Armies - The Gossip Crew - Bren - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There had been a request for the gossip crew/network/whatever you want to call it from Armies meeting once to discuss Andrew and Abram, so here you have it. A rare Bren point of view, and I have to admit, this was a lot of fun.
> 
> Some swearing and vague references for what the Hatfords' people do for work, so fair warning.  
> *******

Bren checked his phone and rolled his eyes upon seeing the raised eyebrow emoji message from Davis; there were days when he wondered if the man was enjoying a second childhood or something. Maybe he'd snapped after all those years of watching over Stuart? Hmm, something to consider... but for another time, since he'd finally reached the pub, with Billy and several others giving him a nod or wave in greeting once he stepped inside, and a table in particular calling out to him.

"About damn time you got here," Davis grumbled as Bren pulled out a chair to sit next to him. "Asya give you grief about a night out?"

"Nah, just ran late taking care of a few things down in Piccadilly Circus and then dropped something off at _those two's_ on the way here."

Liz perked up at that and paused in pouring him a glass of whisky. "Eh? Everything all right?" Sitting next to her as always, Liliya nodded in curiosity; they wore dark blue jumpers tonight, though Liz's was form-fitting and Liliya's loose and plush-looking. Davis wore a Chelsea jersey, which was asking for a fight if he wasn't so well-liked by everyone in the pub (maybe he wanted one once he left), and Nadav a plain light grey button down with jeans. Since Bren had come straight from work, he took off his coat and undid a few buttons of the dark blue shirt and rolled up his sleeves while he answered the question. "They're fine - well, as fine as ever," he added with a grin. "Still a bit tired so Ram didn't feel like cooking tonight, which is why the hooligan wanted me to get some take-away for them."

"You mean _Andrew_ didn't want Abram to cook and told you to bring something," Liliya corrected him with one of her knowing smiles. "He's so good to Abram."

"Yeah, he is," Liz agreed as she held the glass of whisky just out of Bren's reach. "And you know the fee."

"Harpy," Bren muttered as everyone huddled closer around the table while he pulled out his phone. "I was gettin' to it."

"Sure you were." Davis tapped the scarred surface of the table until Bren set down the device with one of the pictures of the cats from his most recent 'babysitting' job displayed on it. "Ah, look at those darlings." That one had been of Sir and King caught napping together on the loveseat.

"This is a good one." Bren smiled as he showed the one of them perched on top of the fridge, peering into the freezer with King leaning down to bat at the pints of ice cream - it had been when he'd restocked Andrew's precious supply before their 'parents' had returned home.

"Ha! King's taking her life in her paws there, isn't she?" Nadav shook his head and motioned for Bren to show the rest, which were various photos of the cats playing or sleeping.

"This one’s brill." Bren was rather proud of it, especially since he'd not only gotten it but managed to leave in one piece afterward; Andrew and Abram had returned from their latest trip very late last night, with Sir draped over Andrew's left shoulder and King held cradled in a sleepy Abram's arms as he leaned in to give his tired husband a kiss.

While Liliya made an affectionate noise, the rest of the people gathered around the table grinned over the image and Davis patted Bren on the shoulder. "Jamie's gonna love it," Liz proclaimed. "You already sent it to her, yeah? This is what she was smiling about earlier, I bet."

Bren nodded as he held out his hand for his owed drink. "Yeah. That got me and Asya a nice dinner out, it did." He chuckled before he tossed back the shot.

Nadav shook his head as he motioned for Liz to hand over the bottle, which he used to refill everyone's glasses before his own. "It's not fair - _you_ get chances like that-"

"And deal with a certain American hooligan and Ram when he's in a stabby mood," Bren reminded the man, which Nadav acknowledge with a wince.

"-true, while I deal with _Ally_." That time, it was the rest of the table which winced. "I mean, he's not _all_ bad, it’s just that no one wants pictures of him picking out a new suit or hanging out at a game or trying to get a date." He slumped down in his chair while he drank his whisky. "I spent three hours the other night listening to him debate if he should give guys a try. _Three_ hours." Liz groaned upon hearing that and buried her face in her hands while Liliya appeared stunned and Davis outright laughed - for himself, Bren wondered if he could somehow be on holiday when 'his' troublemakers ran into Ally next. "He's somehow gotten it into his daft head that if Abram can be so happy with a guy that maybe _he_ should give it a try."

"Bloody hell, that's... oh yeah, that's fucked up," Davis said before pouring everyone another round. "Can't wait to tell Stuart about it."

"I don't get it," Liz said, obviously still a bit gobsmacked by the whole thing. "Jamie and Ram are both really smart, so what happened with Ally? I mean, who _thinks_ something like that?"

Bren gave Nadav a sympathetic look. "You know what? Stabby's not so bad. I'll stick with stabby." He'd gotten rather good over the years at predicting and dealing with Abram's and Andrew’s bad moods, after all, not that they happened very often these days. Being married seemed to settle the two of them down - that and working for MI6 kept them plenty busy.

That and they were all bark and no bite – well, with family and friends, that was. With family and friends who didn’t betray them. Bren might have to stock up on the Baileys, tea and sweets, and he wasn’t above holding a cat to ensure that the knives stayed put away, but Abram and Andrew would never turn on anyone who hadn’t betrayed them, and it was the same with everyone else at the table and their own ‘jobs’.

Well, Nadav might be in a spot of trouble, but Ally was getting there.

“So Abram and Andrew are doing well, yes?” Liliya asked as she picked up Bren’s phone and tapped away on it, most likely sending the picture of the two troublemakers to her own (Bren trusted her and so didn’t break her fingers. That and Liz would break his neck for doing such a thing, so…).

“A bit tired, especially Ram, which means I’d leave them alone for another day or two.” Bren shot Davis a grin at that comment, which prompted the older enforcer to groan and pour himself a double-shot of whisky.

“Wonderful. Stuart’s only kept away so far because their flight got in late last night, but he’s planning on stopping by tomorrow.” He seemed to think of something as he swallowed the smooth liquor. “Maybe I can pretend that I forgot something in the car? Andrew’ll make it quick, I’m sure.”

“I’m gonna pretend I never heard that,” Liz drawled while Liliya giggled and Nadav appeared to be fascinated with his phone. “And come on, it’s so adorable, watching Stuart fuss over Ram!”

“And then Andrew does that freaky narrow eye thing after like two minutes of it, and Stuart gets all jealous when Andrew settles Ram with just a look or a touch, and then the two of them start arguing and Ram goes on about tiles for some damn reason and… they’re gonna give me an ulcer,” Davis said in a plaintive manner. “How am I gonna enjoy my curries if I have an ulcer?”

“There, there,” Liliya murmured as she reached over to give his arm a quick pat. “Stuart would be much better about things if he had his own lover. What happened to the woman he was dating? Uhm….”

“Sabine’s new assistant, Claudia,” Liz answered for her. “Yeah, what happened?”

Davis grimaced and reached for the rapidly dwindling supply of whisky to top off everyone’s glasses, while Nadav motioned to Billy for another bottle. “Yeah, her. They broke up about a fortnight ago, she wasn’t too happy with him traveling all over the place – same old, same old.”

“Ah. That’s probably what had Jamie upset.” Liz draped her left arm over Liliya’s shoulders and hugged her wife closer. “Might also be why her and Sean are talking some more about making it official. When you think about it, there’s not too many others our age who do what we do who have such steady relationships that I think it’s hitting the two of them not to underappreciate their own.”

Nadav huffed at that. “That and Will and Miriam would be ecstatic about Jamie finally tying the knot, considering how happy they were about Ram settling down.” He seemed to think about something then groaned. “Fuck me, I don’t want to be stuck with Ally if he has kids. _Ally’s_ kids. They’ll reassign me, right? I mean, this isn’t some sort of punishment? You’d tell me, _right_?” He sounded ready to cry, of all things.

Davis laughed while he pounded the poor guy on the back. “You think some woman is ever gonna let that nitwit knock ‘em up?” He spoke the harsh words with affection, but they were still… well, harsh.

They were still the truth, too.

Nadav looked over at Liz and Liliya as if to get a woman’s opinion on things, and sagged in relief when they shook their heads. “If by _some_ chance one does, they’re keeping the kid and getting the money wired into their account so they don’t have to deal with Ally, but no one’s gonna chance messing with the family like that and no one’s going to be able to deal with him long enough to procreate with the sorry bastard.”

“Thank god,” Nadav sighed, and perked up when Jared, Billy’s nephew, arrived with the new bottle.

“Makes one wonder what they say about us, eh?” Davis said as he nudged Bren in the side.

“That you’re ugly as sin and dumb as a rock.” Liz smirked as she opened the new bottle while Liliya asked Jared for a pitcher of water and two platters of fish and chips. Everyone else was quick to order food too, a sure sign that they were settling in for the night.

“Abram say where they were this time?” Nadav asked after he finished his latest shot.

Bren shook his head. “No, so more hush-hush stuff. He _did_ bring back some nice bottles of vodka that I’m to take to Jamie’s main office later this week, so….”

Liz glared at her empty shot glass but didn’t refill it just yet. “That bastard’s working him too hard. Why haven’t we taken Lloyd out yet?”

“Something about Will saying ‘no’ and ‘government agency’ and ‘let _Andrew_ drive him crazy’, blah blah blah,” Davis griped. “I hear Stuart whinging about it all the time.”

“Talking about ulcers,” Nadav mumbled as he texted someone.

“Nah, he’s always good after some quality time with the grandcats,” Davis said with a straight face. “Cup of tea with Ram out by the fish pond, does the dangling cat toy thing for about ten minutes… swear I broke a bloke by showing him a minute of a video of it, once – Stuart was taking a call while the guy was all tied up and bleeding out. Thought he’d lost his marbles and started babbling right off.” He smiled as he propped his chin up on his left hand. “Fun stuff.”

“You ain’t right,” Bren told his friend.

“And you are?”

“Eh, we’re not talking about me,” he shot back, while Liz seemed to be considering something. “What?”

“Think I could get footage of _Andrew_ playing the cats?” At everyone’s incredulous stares, she shrugged. “It’s gotta happen, right? And just think of playing _that_ when you’ve got some poor sod hanging there all cut up.”

The table was quiet while everyone did.

Huh, it had possibilities.

“Maybe Jason could bug their house?” Then Nadav blanched and seemed to think better of that while the rest of them shook their heads – Bren hard enough to make his neck ache. “The living room? Maybe _just_ the living room?”

“We’d have to offer him some pretty damn good incentive, he’s always real squirrely whenever Andrew’s brought up,” Liz reminded him. “Some new tech, if anything good comes in.” That was directed at Davis, since Stuart often got first crack at the imported stuff.

Davis tapped his fingers against the table for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “I’ll have to think up something to tell Stuart, but yeah, should be doable. At the least, it’ll make his year to be able to tease Andrew about it, if he ever finds out what we did.”

Bren could see the plan blowing up in their faces in so many ways… but he had to admit, it could be worth it. “Eh, who wants to grow old?”

“I’m pretty sure Ram won’t let Andrew torture us,” Liz said with a half-smile. “He’d argue for our deaths to be quick.”

Nadav grinned at that. “I won’t have to deal with Ally anymore! I’m definitely in!”

They had another shot each to ‘seal’ the agreement and tossed around some ideas once the fish arrived. Bren didn’t know they’d ever make it work (Jason was too smart, for starters), but it made for one of their better get-togethers.

He had a wonderful girlfriend, a comfortable flat and a job he liked (other than the occasional prick shooting at him). Yeah, it was rough on the wardrobe and the hours a bitch at times, but most of the people he worked with were loyal and had his back, and the pay was great – he wouldn’t find that in some boring ‘normal’ job.

“No, seriously, I’m willing to take the risk,” Nadav insisted as he waved a chip in Davis’ face. “He tried to make a Molotov cocktail the other day with a bottle of seltzer water. _Seltzer_! There was a bloody bottle of vodka right _there_ and he grabbed the _seltzer_!”

“Uhm… isn’t there a saying about it’s the thought that counts?” Liliya offered while Liz appeared torn between laughing and crying, of all things.

“Just tell me if this is some sort of punishment,” the poor guy pleaded. “I can take it.”

“It really is a promotion,” Davis tried to assure him. “ _Really_.”

Ah yeah, so much better than some stupid office or construction job, Bren thought as he poured himself a shot.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> I feel SO SORRY for Nadav. And for all of them (except Liliya) if they ever do get their hands on that tape and Andrew finds out.


	8. Armies - prequel/Stuart - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was based on this prompt:  
> would you ever consider writing abram and stuart’s (and the rest of the hatford crew) meeting abram for the first time after he makes the call? i imagine it’ll take a while for abram to open up to stuart and he’d probably be rather skittish 
> 
> So a prequel/prologue story to Armies where Neil/Abram shows up on Stuart's doorstep! I'll probably write more of this, show him meeting Will and Jamie at some point (but no Henry, sorry). TW are character death (think you can guess who), very brief thought of suicide and references of past abuse.
> 
> I'll probably add this to Armies at some point.  
> ******

Alex stood still as the cold water of the Pacific Ocean washed over his ankles, as it rushed forth to cover the small cairn of rocks which served as his mother’s anonymous grave. Mary Hatford deserved so much more, deserved a proper resting place surrounded by family and a coffin and a tombstone so loved ones could visit over the years, and instead had her half-charred remains all but dumped into a wet hole in the ground which no one would ever knowingly visit. In a few more minutes, Alex would turn around and walk away, would discard his current name and leave her behind forever.

He might be joining her in an unmarked grave soon enough – Mary Hatford’s latest sacrifice all for nothing. Over six years on the run for nothing, all the pain and abuse suffered at Nathan Wesninski’s hands for _nothing_.

All because she refused to give Alex (Nathaniel) up to the Moriyamas.

He wanted to scream his rage and anguish and confusion into the night sky, to deafen the sound of the endless waves and screeching seagulls as he thought about what his mother had confessed to him as they fled Seattle and his father and what he’d thought had just been yet another bout of terrible violence and bloody near-miss. Instead, it had been his father landing a fatal blow on Alex’s mother at last, a long-overdue retribution for her taking his son away, his son and five million dollars… and only increasing the Butcher’s debt to the criminal syndicate he owed allegiance.

Alex knew that his mother had been born a Hatford, into a criminal empire of sorts in the UK, but he’d thought that his father had been responsible for his own business of death and drugs and intimidation on the East Coast. It seemed that Nathan Wesninski was merely a subordinate, and had promised his son to his more powerful employers.

Which meant that Alex had four choices left to him at the moment; he could walk out into the ocean and end things right there, could stop running once and for all. He felt so tired, felt so worn down and battered, and it wasn’t just from the bruises littering his body from the fight earlier. Yet he could still hear his mother’s weak, raspy voice in his head telling him to _run_ and never stop.

He could obey her like he always did, could grab his bag sitting on the beach and shed ‘Alex’, could pick a new identity and find one of their stashes and rest in city number twenty-three for a while, then move on. And on. And on… until his father or the Moriyamas caught up to him.

He could hand himself over to the Moriyamas and explain that he hadn’t known the truth. For a moment he felt a faint thrill at the thought of playing Exy again, at being on the court at Castle Evermore with Riko and Kevin and… and there had to be a reason _why_ his mother had taken him and run, hadn’t there? Why she believed everything they’d suffered was better than him going on to play for one of the best Exy teams in existence.

Or… or as his final choice, he could retrieve his phone and call his uncle Stuart, call the number that was to be used as a ‘last resort’. Alex’s mother had done her best to stay away from her family after they’d immediately left Baltimore, to not rely upon them for help or return to that life… but Alex didn’t see any choice at the moment. It was either end up like her or end up in his father’s hands.

He stared out over the fluid waves for a few more seconds before he turned around and had to blink his eyes at the remnants of the fire as it flickered low in the metal frame of the ruins of the car, and stumbled toward his duffel bag.

He’d already thrown his mother’s belongings into the ocean, those which he hadn’t burned, and had almost gotten rid of his own phone since it was the same cheap, disposable model as his mother’s. He gazed at it for a couple of seconds before he forced himself to power it on and then dialed a number long-memorized, aware that it would be early morning in London.

“Who the hell is this?” Stuart answered after a couple of rings, his gruff voice thick with sleep. “Ally? This one of your tricks?”

Alex’s throat grew tight at the sound of his uncle’s voice, of the familiar accent. “Ah… it’s-“ he almost said ‘Nathaniel’ before he caught himself. “It’s Abram,” he said, his voice falling into the same accent, the one he always used when with his mother, and used the name his mother had always called him. “Uhm, Mary’s son.”

“Mary’s – fuck, kiddo, what’s going on? Where’s your mum?” Stuart didn’t sound so tired anymore. “Where’s she?”

Alex fought back a sob as he fell to his knees and rocked back and forth. “She… she’s not… I… your number.”

“Dammit. _Dammit_!” There was the sound of something loud clashing on the other end while Stuart yelled, which made Alex flinch and almost drop the phone. “Dammit, Mary! I – wait, are you okay, kiddo?”

Alex shook his head before he realized that Stuart couldn’t see him. “I-“

“Are you safe? Is that fucker nearby? He did it, didn’t he? He got Mary.”

“Yu-yeah.” Alex forced himself to answer, even though he huddled over at the sound of an angry adult male. “Yes, sir.” He recalled a curt man just a few inches taller than his mother, several years older than his mother with blond hair and grey eyes yet who always tried to bribe him with tart candies to step away from Mary so he could ‘get a proper look at you, kiddo’. Stuart hadn’t seemed so bad, back in London.

“ _Fuck_.” Then Stuart let out a slow breath. “Okay. Okay. We need to focus on you, Abram,” he said in a quieter tone of voice. “Where are you? You’re all right, yeah?”

“I’m fine,” Alex told him. “Uhm… California, by the ocean, in the north.”  He let out a shuddering breath. “I… I buried her here. By the water. Burned the car.”

“Fuck,” Stuart breathed out as there was the sound of breaking glass. “Dammit. There a town nearby?”

“Uhm.” Alex scrubbed at his face as he thought about the drive from Seattle, about his mother’s weak voice and bright eyes and heavy words, how it had been so hard to look away from her even to pay attention to the road once he’d realized that something was wrong. “Eureka. It’s a few miles north.”

“Can you get there without any problems?”

“Yeah.” He was used to walking when they didn’t have a car, when they needed to fade into a city and lose people on crowded streets.

“All right, then you go there, and you find someplace public you can crash until I send someone to pick you up, do you understand? It’ll just be a couple of hours, tops, and they’ll get you to the nearest airport with an international flight to London. I’d come get you myself but this’ll be quickest – I want you out of that hellhole of a country before the day’s out.”

“Okay.” Alex wanted out of the States, too; nothing good ever happened to him while he was there.

“Good boy. Now, give me a safe word or something so you’ll know the person I send to fetch you.”

Alex frowned as he attempted to think of something that his father’s people wouldn’t guess; anything related to Exy wouldn’t be a good idea. “Ah… ‘poppies’,” he said after a couple of seconds, as he glanced over at the still-smoldering wreck of a car.

It made his chest ache, the thought of how little he’d known about his mother (actually, everything to do with her made his chest ache), but he’d caught her smiling fondly at the little fake flowers they handed out on Remembrance Day one year while in the UK and had learned that poppies were her favorite flower. She’d never have a proper grave, would never have a place where he could leave a bouquet of them on her headstone each year to mark her passing or birthday or anything like that, he realized.

“’Poppies’,” Stuart repeated, his voice thick once again but not from sleep – something similar must have occurred to him. “Get going, Abram. Be careful, call as soon as you reach the town or if you need help. I’ll see you soon.” Then he hung up.

Alex held the phone clutched in his hand for a moment, his fingers scraped raw from digging in the sand, then he forced himself to put the phone into the duffel bag and pull out a clean pair of clothes that didn’t reek of gasoline and smoke and burnt flesh. Once he was changed into them, he threw the other pair into the flickering flames as he passed the remains of the car then kept going, refusing to look back as he made his way to Eureka.

*******

“Are you sure about this, Stu? Miriam said that-“

“I’m sure,” Stuart argued for the eighth time as he cut short his brother, tone a bit snippy but… _eighth_ time. He knew Will meant well, was stressed and still processing the fact that their sister was dead, but they had to focus on her son right then. “Give me a day or two with him, a little time to get him settled in and then you and Miriam can come over. But he sounded at his wit’s end the couple of times I talked to him, and if he’s anything like Mary,” _dammit_ , he hated how he could barely say her name, “then you know how that’s gonna go.”

“Yeah.” Will was just as choked up; they should have been prepared for this day, had thought they were, but Abram’s call had still been a shot to the guts. Mary was – _had, dammit_ – been clever as fuck, been the strongest of the three of them in her own way, so damn stubborn and unwilling to bend. Stuart was amazed that she’d lasted so long on the run, had kept herself and her son free of the Moriyamas and that _fucker_ Wesninski with so little resources.

_Had_.

Dammit, keep it together, Hatford.

“Take all the time you need to settle Abram in, and call me for _anything_ , you hear?” Will ordered, his voice back to stern and demanding. “Anything that boy needs. We’ll figure out what to do with him soon enough, the main thing is he’s home now.”

“Right, I’ll keep you updated,” Stuart promised his brother then went to pour himself some more coffee once the call ended. It had been a long as hell day already and Abram would be there any minute, leaving Stuart to deal with Mary’s teenage son.

Mary… beautiful, stubborn, independent Mary, so certain that she always knew what was she was doing, that she didn’t need to listen to anyone, that people were trying to hold her back or treat her like a child or not trust her to make her own choices. Foolish, fiery Mary who thought she could do so much better than her brothers, who leapt before looking and married a psychopath leashed to the yakuza.

Stuart wanted whisky more than coffee, but he stuck with the caffeine instead because the last thing poor Abram needed was being dropped off into the custody of some drunk uncle he barely knew, right?

At least Will still had enough pull with some of the organization in Vancouver and Arthur Boylen had been able to send one of his men across the border to fetch Abram, take him to Sacramento and board a plane with him to ensure that he arrived in London in one piece.  Cal had been sent to pick up the poor kid and bring him to Stuart’s home since they didn’t want to make it too obvious, the fact that Mary Hatford’s son had left the US to return to her family.

No, the less the Moriyamas found out about Abram’s whereabouts, the better; Stuart knew that Mary hadn’t wanted her son to become involved in the ‘family’ business, which was why she hadn’t stayed with them after finally coming to her senses and leaving Nathan Wesninski. That meant he and Will needed to figure out what to do with Abram, what kind of life they could offer him at last.

He was on his second cup of coffee when Cal finally showed up with an exhausted and wary Abram in tow; Cal was babbling away about taking the kid down to Covent Gardens to pick pockets, of all things, while Abram slunk into the townhouse as if expecting to be yelled at (or worse) any moment, all defenses up and hunched shoulders.

“Ah, here he is! Your uncle Stuart, in the flesh. I’ll leave the two of you at it, okay?” Cal nodded to Stuart before he smiled at Abram. “It was nice to meet you, kid. Let me know if you get bored and wanna hang out.”

Abram gave the enforcer a slight nod but didn’t say anything, his attention flickered all around as he took in Stuart and the townhouse in a hyperaware manner which Stuart recognized as someone doing his best to assess any and all potential threats – Stuart included. So Stuart didn’t come too close as he did some assessing himself.

Mary’s son had obviously inherited the Hatford genes when it came to height, or lack of it, since the kid (he’d be at least sixteen, if Stuart remembered correctly) was about 160 centimeters. He was scrawny as fuck, too, which wasn’t helped by the overlarge rags he wore, pale blue jeans and a pale grey sweatshirt that had seen better days a long time ago. The red hair Stuart remembered in the photos which Mary would send was gone, replaced by what he suspected was dark brown dye (it had been dyed a lighter shade during his visit years ago), and the kid wore brown contacts as well.

One could see that fucker Wesninski in the kid’s face, could tell the two of them were related, but Abram’s cheeks were sharper, his face thinner and more refined, and there were bits of Mary in there as well (the fine eyebrows, that mouth). Stuart looked at his nephew and ached as he took in the dark shadows around those masked eyes, the tightness lining the mouth, the missed years between the young child who’d last stood before him and now.

It occurred to him that he’d never seen Abram laugh – not in any of the pictures that Mary had sent, not in that week when she’d brought him here, _never_. He’d rarely seen the kid smile, either, and those had always been guarded things or falsehoods for the camera.

“So, uhm, hi,” he said to his nephew, all of a sudden at a loss for words. Part of him wanted to wrap his arms around Mary’s child and hug him, to share in the grief between them, but he knew that Abram was too on edge for that, too wary of him.

Abram started at the sound of his voice. “Ah, hi.” He hitched the duffel bag hanging on his left shoulder a little higher. “Uhm… thank you,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and stress. “For… for this.” He gave a slight wave of his right hand. “I can… I can be gone in a-“

“You’re staying here,” Stuart snapped, furious at the thought of Abram vanishing just like Mary had, of losing the last bit of his sister he had left, and then let out a slow breath when he caught Abram’s flinch. “I’m not forcing you to do anything, but you called me for help and the family’s here for you, kiddo. Don’t go running because you think you have to, all right? Rest for a while, we’ll help you figure things out. You’re safe here.” He waited for Abram to slowly relax and nod. “What do want right now? Something to eat? To sleep?” The kid looked ready to pass out.

“Uhm… bed be good,” Abram admitted in a quiet, slurred voice as he rubbed at his eyes with a hand all scraped up for some reason.

“We can manage that,” Stuart said as he was cautious about stepping around his nephew to lead him up the stairs to the bedroom he’d prepared earlier in the day. Abram appeared mindful to stay just out of reach, to keep him in his sights at all time, and after getting over his shock of a room with the large bed and attached bathroom, locked the door behind Stuart.

There might have been the sound of a chair or something being pushed against the door a minute later, as Stuart hovered in the stairwell. Mary obviously didn’t raise a naïve child, and Stuart would have his work cut out for him in gaining Abram’s trust, it seemed.

Stuart tried not to think about what Abram’s life must have been like, all those years on the run. He definitely didn’t want to think about what it had been like in Nathan Wesninski’s house.

He reheated the last of some take-away as he called Will to let him know that Abram had arrived, and spent some time talking to his brother; Miriam was busy looking into schools for their nephew, possibly a boarding school where he could stay under an alias. Part of Stuart didn’t want to even contemplate letting Abram being out of his sight, of letting go of Mary’s son after they’d gotten him back… but it would be whatever was best for the boy.

He made a few other calls to ensure that work wouldn’t be too disrupted by him staying at home for a couple of days, Henry more than capable of stepping in for him (a good learning experience for the young man), and finally gave in to the urge to grab the bottle of whisky before he tucked himself into the one comfortable chair in the living room with an old photo album.

They never knew if it had been deliberate or not, their parents waiting so long to have Stuart and Mary after Will, but William was older than Stuart by ten years and Mary by almost another four. The age gap hadn’t been so bad between Will and Stuart, but then again they were brothers – he’d always looked up to Will, had seen him as a mentor and an example and a hero of sorts, someone to emulate. He’d annoyed Will a little for a few years with his constant tagging along and all, but Will had always taken his responsibilities to the family seriously, had looked after Stuart and taken the time to show him what to do and how to fight and everything else he’d felt was the duty of a big brother.

There was less of a gap between Stuart and Mary so they’d gotten along better, had understood each other and felt like it was them against their parents and the rest of the family often since they were the ‘young ones’. Still, Mary was the ‘baby’, was the only daughter and seemed to vacillate between spoiled/adored and coddled – the first she used to her advantage, the latter she detested.

Stuart gazed at a picture of his sister - probably no more than nine or ten years old, her hair pulled back and curled and dressed in some ridiculously frilly outfit - glare at the camera with her hands in fists upon her hips and thought he remembered some party his mother had thrown where she wanted Mary to be a ‘proper’ little lady. A party which Stuart and Will didn’t have to attend, of course, which had only added to Mary’s ire.

She could cause one damn righteous scene she could, his sister. He found himself smiling at that memory, before he remembered about that inner fire being snuffed out forever, snuffed out by some American prick who’d hurt her for years. Hurt her and Abram while he’d been unable to do a damn thing about it.

Stuart began to drink in earnest.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew was that his neck hurt and his head ached and there was a strange noise in the house. Cursing beneath his breath, he shoved himself onto his feet and stumbled toward it as he fumbled for a weapon, which turned out to be the mostly empty bottle which had been on his lap,and blinked as he found a wide-eyed Abram in his kitchen with a glass of water in his trembling hands.

“Ah… I was… I can-“ Abram fumbled to put down the glass as he backed into the counter.

“No, no, just… jus’ forgot you were here,” Stuart tried to explain as he set the bottle aside. “What time izzit?” he asked as he rubbed at his bleary eyes.

“Ah… six am?” Abram sounded apologetic about that fact, even though he’d slept a good bit since he’d arrived the previous evening.

“Right.” Stuart gazed at his nephew who still looked tired and was dressed in another oversized outfit which hung on his too-thin form. “When was the last time you ate?”

Abram was quiet as he sipped at the water, his eyes downcast. “There was food on the plane.”

That wasn’t an answer. “Tea or coffee?” Stuart asked as he went over to start a pot of coffee for himself, mindful not to get too close to the spooked kid.

“Ah, whatever you’re making,” Abram told him in a quiet voice as he glanced at Stuart from beneath his overlong bangs; Miriam would have to take him to get it cut as well as buy some decent clothes.

Mary had always preferred tea in the morning, so Stuart filled the electric kettle and pulled out some teabags, and noticed how the tension in Abram’s narrow shoulders eased a little. “All right, breakfast or something.” Fuck, he’d been so busy getting Abram out of the States that he hadn’t thought about food, had he? He went over to the refrigerator and frowned as he checked the contents. “Not so much breakfast, eh? Still, something to eat,” he reassured his nephew as he grabbed some cheese and butter. “Grilled cheese sandwiches all right?”

To his surprise, Abram graced him with a slight, sad smile, the first smile Stuart had yet to see from him since he’d arrived. “Yeah, that’s fine. Mum would… well, those are easy to make anywhere,” he finished in a weak voice as if uncertain he should admit that.

Stuart paused in grabbing the loaf of bread as he thought about being a child and sitting next to a grinning Mary as they fought over the last grilled cheese sandwich. “She always liked ‘em when we were growing up,” he told his nephew, and felt a pang in his chest at Abram’s obvious surprise. ‘What the hell, Mary’, he thought to himself over that fact, over Abram not knowing such a simple thing about his own mother.

Abram kept a too-careful watch as Stuart made the sandwiches, the mug of tea forgotten in his hands while Stuart wielded a knife to slice the bread and cheese, and didn’t relax until it was discarded into the sink.

A million questions danced around in Stuart’s head, questions about what the hell the kid and Mary had done the last several years, what they’d been doing in Seattle, why she hadn’t called in so long… but he knew it was better not to press right away. Abram was as skittish as an abused feral cat, distrustful of people and rightfully so after everything he’d been through with his parents.

The important thing was that he’d come home at last, that he’d returned to the Hatfords. He was blood and he was where he belonged, was where he’d be safe – Stuart and Will would make sure of that. They may have lost Mary, but they wouldn’t lose Abram, Stuart swore to himself as he set a place of sandwiches in front of the half-starved young man who clearly had to force himself to sit at the opposite side of the island from him.

He wouldn’t let Abram down.

*******


	9. Armies - Andreil - Aaron and Katelyn's Visit (M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah... basically a look at Andrew and Abram about a year after the end of Armies, when Aaron and Katelyn come to visit. Gives you an idea of where things stand between Andrew and Aaron, and Abram meeting Katelyn.
> 
> (tiny, tiny bit of m/m in this, nothing too graphic, and of course talk of Andrew and Abram's work. Oh, and the SNARK.)  
> *******

*******

Abram smiled at Ashley as he leaned gingerly against the top of one of her monitors with his chin resting on top of his folded arms. “So, I sent you the file last night, and let me tell you, it was rather difficult reining in Andrew while I corrected the few grammar mistakes – he wanted to make a couple of comments on the paper.” That had surprised Abram, his husband’s interest on the topic, but Kimberly had picked an interesting book for once.

Ashley laughed as she leaned back in her chair and toyed with her long, dark brown braid. “I appreciate your efforts since I can only imagine what he’d have put in there.” She shuddered a little which made Abram smile in shared horror. “She’s doing better?”

“Yes, I imagine soon enough you’ll have to come up with something else when I ask for a favor.” Ashley smiled at that, a mixture of pride for her younger sister and delight in thinking up a new ‘price’ for Abram when he needed certain things done; he didn’t mind because Ashley was a minor miracle worker and usually asked for small, easily to do things in return such as proofing her sister’s uni papers or bringing back certain items from their travels.

“I’m sure I’m up to the challenge,” Ashley said as she tapped away on her keyboard. “As is, I’ve just sent you my part of our latest bargain. The email contains all the information you need in regards to the reservations I made for your dinners and a private appointment at Barts Pathology Museum.” She gave him a pleased smile as she once again toyed with her braid. “Anything else?”

“Don’t let the place descend into chaos while we’re away, yes?” Abram asked as he stood up and gave her a jaunty salute.

“I’ll do my best!” Ashley called out as he walked away, voice bright with laughter. Maddy and Rita (who was back in the office while she did some research before her next mission) wished him a nice ‘holiday’ as he left the office to meet up with his husband.

Andrew was standing out in the hallway with Lloyd and Kathryn Ambrose, one of the higher-ups who handled the EMEA region. Despite Lloyd’s occasional grumbling about the woman (he tended to grumble about anyone ranked above him), Abram never had a problem with Kathryn, who always treated him and Andrew with polite respect. “Hello, Abram,” she greeted him.

“Hello, Kathryn. Everything all right?”

“Yes, I was just talking to Lloyd and Andrew about how there’s a potential situation in Hungary. I know you’re about to go on holiday, but I just wanted to give you a head’s up that we may need to send the two of you there once you’re back.”

Lloyd nodded as he motioned to Andrew and then Abram. “Bit of a special request, but some people feel that you two could help out the agents already there.”

It wasn’t as if they could say ‘no’ when it was their jobs; Abram shared a look with Andrew who gave a slight nod after a moment. In a way, it might be better for them since someone else would be taking the lead on the mission and they would be providing support, would be more in the background. Though it meant that they’d have to do a bit of research before they left even though they were supposed to be on break.

“Send us all of the necessary information,” Abram said as he went to stand next to his husband.

“Though we’ll need an extra day or two to prepare,” Andrew argued as he stared down Lloyd.

“Of course. I’ll have Maddy put together the intel and send it to you by tomorrow.” Lloyd knew better than to fight with Andrew by then, especially with Kathryn right there (and when she appeared pleased by their agreement). That dealt with, they said their ‘goodbyes’ and left.

It wasn’t as if Andrew’s brother and sister-in-law would want to see them the entire time they were in London – they were visiting for a medical conference, after all, so they should have plenty of time to go over the material. If anything, the extra day or two they’d won from Lloyd would be spent by themselves to ‘recover’ from the visit.

Abram had the suspicion that they would need the days to recover, considering how Andrew was already on edge from the approaching visit, which was why he’d done everything he could to ensure that Aaron and Katelyn had an enjoyable (and busy) time once they arrived. He’d enlisted Ashley’s help on the matter, since he didn’t want the family too involved with Andrew’s brother ‘just in case’.

The Minyards were due to arrive the next day, and were staying at some hotel in central London where the conference was being held (along with a couple of ‘minders’ from the family), but had agreed to meet up with Andrew and Abram during their free time. Nicky and Erik would come to visit in a couple of days for a mini-reunion, so there were dinners arranged and Abram had planned for an excursion or two for the couple to enjoy (by themselves).

Things between the brothers had improved since the wedding in South Carolina last year, had been tense phone calls at first before the two had moved on (somewhat) from the past, but Aaron and Andrew spending time together like this was a big step that Abram wasn’t certain that they were ready for just yet. Still, it was what it was, and in a few days Aaron would return to the States and soon after that Andrew would have an excuse to vent any disappointment by killing someone (more than likely).

“What idiocy are you contemplating now?” Andrew asked as he drove them home.

“Hmm, just that you’ll probably have to wait a week or so to commit therapeutic homicide, _hon_ ,” Abram confessed, and laughed when his husband heaved a weary sigh.

“Should have had the damn judge say ‘until insanity do you part’, could have gotten out of this marriage ages ago,” Andrew grumbled even as he held out his hand for Abram to entwine their fingers together.

“You like my mental instability,” Abram insisted as he smiled. “Keeps things interesting.”

Andrew did the sighing thing again but didn’t disagree.

Stuart and Davis were in the townhouse when they arrived, which drew a displeased frown from Andrew when he caught sight of Abram’s uncle standing in the kitchen with a purring King in his arms. Davis grinned while he held up his hands in a placating manner. “Just dropping off a few things and checking in on the kids.”

Abram patted his husband on the back before he went to hug his uncle, mindful of King who was handed over when they stepped apart. “You look tired, is everything all right?” Jamie had told him that Stuart was traveling a lot lately when they’d last talked; Abram had checked a few documents for the family to ensure that everything was on the up and up in the contracts.

“Too much drinking with Camillo last night,” Stuart complained. “Looking forward to being home for a bit.” He gave Abram an exhausted smile as he scratched King’s chin. “I know you’re busy the next few days, but if you’ve some time, call me and we’ll have some tea, yeah?”

Abram nodded in agreement. “That’s doable.” They should be able to meet up while Aaron and Katelyn were busy with the conference.

“Good. There’s some chocolates and jenever for you, and Ravi will show up with the cars when you need one, just call.” Stuart waved to Andrew as he left, and Davis bent over to give a meowing Sir a stroke along the back on the way out.

“Couldn’t he have brought some damn whisky?” Andrew complained as he headed straight to the boxes of chocolates out on the island while Abram shook his head and set King down on the floor.

“Your life’s so hard,” Abram remarked as he picked up the bottles of gin-like liquor and stored them away in the cabinet (he had a feeling he’d need them soon enough). “So, we eating in tonight or going out?”

“In, since we’ll be going out the next few nights,” Andrew said between bites of sweets.

That decided, Abram checked the fridge and cabinets before he settled on a spicy chicken and rice dish to make later, and worked on a few more documents for Jamie in-between calls with his cousin and Nicky while Andrew read a book. They went out to sit by the fish pond for a little while before he started on dinner, a mug of tea in his hands and a glass of whisky in Andrew’s, an enjoyable half an hour where Andrew made his usual threats over the poor fish and Abram slumped down enough to rest his head against his husband’s broad shoulder, content to sit there next to him and enjoy the peace and quiet.

Then he was given a shove to the knee and told to go cook something that wouldn’t poison the both of them.

Abram bit back a smile as he called his husband a prat for the umpteenth time, affection a warm tingle in his chest.

Andrew sat at the island while he cooked dinner and texted with Nicky while he made their dinner, and had a glass of wine waiting for him once it was done (and stole the damn naan once Abram sat down). It was nights like these which Abram treasured the most during all the years they’d been together, when they ‘bickered’ during dinner then curled up together in the living room (since it was late spring it wasn’t too warm yet for a fire) to watch a few episodes of a baking show they both enjoyed (easy to follow with their schedule) then head upstairs after a few hours.

They were tired, but not _too_ tired. Looks were exchanged and clothes were shed before they sprawled out on opposite ends of the bed, where Abram spent a moment enjoying the sight of Andrew’s stocky yet muscular body (save for the slightest pouch of fat on his belly which he adored) before he gasped as his husband stroked his half-tumescent cock then leaned in to nuzzle it and-

He much enjoyed it when Andrew performed oral sex, but he also much enjoyed it when he could reduce Andrew to a shuddering mess with his mouth and hands, so it was the best of both worlds when they both blew each other. It didn’t take long until they both were shivering messes sprawled out on the bed, and then the bastard dragged him off to the shower to wash off, then they tucked in beneath the blankets for a restful night’s sleep.

Mostly.

Andrew was up first, which was a rare occasion; Abram resisted the temptation to follow his husband out of the bed but decided to give him a bit of peace (a half an hour) before he got up as well. He found Andrew working out and only put in a mile or two on the treadmill before he went to wash off then began work on a batch of chocolate chip and hazelnut hotcakes. It was right as he finished the last one that Andrew joined him, fresh from his own shower.

“I guess you won’t be fish bait just yet, _babe_ ,” the prat remarked as he rested his chin on Abram’s left shoulder and wrapped his right arm around Abram’s waist.

“If it wouldn’t be so traumatic to the cats and Nicky, I’d file for divorce,” Abram teased as he added the last hotcake to the huge stack next to the stove.

Andrew clicked his tongue before he snatched up the plate. “You’ve never had it so good and you know it.”

Yes, Abram did indeed ‘know it’, but there was no need to say it, was there? “Did you hit your head with a weight or what?” he asked instead, and rolled his eyes when Andrew made a rude gesture his way. “I’ve merely decided to wait for you to die from clogged arteries or diabetes instead, it’s much easier than dealing with solicitors and the such, _hon_.”

“What was that?” Andrew waited until he was seated at the island and his precious carbs set down to reach for his phone. “I’m making note of this so when we’re either divorced or you mysteriously disappear one day, there’s no problem with me taking custody of the cats and Bren – yet another cruel comment bordering on abuse.” He made a show of typing on his phone before he set it down then got up to fetch the whipped cream and syrup for his hotcakes. “How I suffer for this relationship.”

“Yeah, yeah, be sure to tell Nicky – oh, wait, I’ll do it for you.” Abram grinned when Andrew’s shoulders hunched upward at that remark. “I’m sure he’ll be ever so helpful with recommendations on how to save our marriage.”

Andrew gave him a long, level look for several seconds (which was impressive, considering the stack of hotcakes before him) before he spoke. “He’ll torment you just as much as me, you know.”

Ah, a flaw in an otherwise perfect plan. “Uhm… I’ll be off with Stuart?”

“You think the pest won’t rat you out to the family?”

Dammit, there was that – Stuart had actually calmed down on the whole ‘Andrew is bad’ front and all. “He’ll still be worse with you,” Abram argued as he set about making some scrambled eggs for himself.

“Right. Idiot.” Still, Andrew appeared smug as he finally cut into his stack of sugary carbs, so Abram felt pleased as he prepared his own breakfast. Once it was done, he sat down and rolled his eyes at how most of the hotcakes were already gone.

Andrew checked his phone while they ate and reported that Maddy had sent the intel for the Hungary mission, which they’d start parsing through later. Abram had just enough time to wash the dishes and go change before they left for the airport in the Aston Martin sedan which Navi had dropped off for them to use to pick up Aaron and Katelyn since neither of the sports cars in the garage would handle four people and luggage. Since Andrew didn’t trust anyone but the two of them or Bren (who made sure the cars didn’t sit idle too long) driving the sports cars, they didn’t want to have them out of the garage for the few days that Aaron and Katelyn were in town, so Ravi would drop off and pick up the sedans whenever Andrew needed one to drive his brother around town rather than let them sit in the driveway overnight.

Abram waited until they were past the worst of the traffic to speak up. “Aaron’s into general practice and Katelyn’s pediatrics?” He hadn’t paid much attention when Andrew spoke about his brother, other than to note that they were getting along (finally).

“Yes.” Andrew tapped his fingers against the steering wheel then sighed. “They both work at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston. Guess it balances out us a bit, right?” He glanced aside at Abram with a slight quirk to the corner of his mouth. “We kill people, they heal them.”

“We don’t kill _everyone_ ,” Abram argued. “There’s some missions where people live.” He smiled when Andrew snorted in dissent. “Whatever.”

“Whatever indeed.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed at the hatchback driving much too slow in front of them. “I’m about to kill someone right now.”

_Someone_ was probably going to get multiple vehicle violations in the mail within the next few days, Abram suspected, but for once the threat wasn’t directed toward himself so he merely settled a little lower in the comfortable leather seat and used his phone to check the traffic ahead.

They reached Heathrow shortly after Aaron texted to say that he and Katelyn had cleared Customs and retrieved their luggage, and so drove to Arrivals to pick them up. For some reason the two had declared that they didn’t have to go into the airport to greet them, so Andrew drove the sedan to the general arrival area where the two should be waiting and found them by spotting Aaron’s familiar visage.

The couple appeared surprised by the Aston Martin as it pulled up to the curb and when both Andrew and Abram exited the vehicle, with Katelyn breaking into a grin while Aaron shook his head. “It’s so good to see you!” the young woman exclaimed as she made an abortive motion as if to give Andrew a hug then thought better of it. “Thank you so much for coming to pick us up.”

“Ah, yeah, you didn’t have to do that,” Aaron said in a much more subdued manner; he was dressed in worn jeans and a MUSC long-sleeved t-shirt, while Katelyn wore leggings and a brightly colored PSU sweatshirt. “We could have taken a cab or something.”

“But the hotel room won’t be ready for a few hours,” Abram said as Andrew grabbed the luggage to put into the car’s boot. “I thought that’s why-“

“Ignore him,” Katelyn insisted as she nudged her husband in the side. “He’s grumpy because of the long flight.” She gave Abram a grateful smile while Aaron huffed and went to help his brother with the luggage. “We appreciate everything you’re doing for us.”

“Uhm, it’s nothing, really.” Abram motioned toward the car and fumbled for the door handle so he could open it for her. “Let’s get going.”

“Okay.”

Katelyn smiled as he closed the door once she was inside, yet Aaron gave Abram a displeased look over the hood of the car before he slid inside. Abram frowned over the reaction then shrugged as he returned to his seat up front.

“This your car?” Aaron asked once they drove away from the airport. “Seems a bit too normal for you, a bit _proper_ and all.”

Abram bit into his bottom lip to hold back a chuckle as Andrew revved the 560 horse power engine to easily bypass the traffic as they merged onto the highway. “It’s not bad for a loaner, but I much prefer the Vantage S Roadster or the Maclaren 720S. They’re not meant for four people,” Andrew stated in a bored tone, “unless you want to ride on the roof.” He gave a look at his brother through the rear-view mirror. “That an option?”

His brother was quiet for several seconds before he made a disgusted noise. “Like rubbing it in that you’ve got money now, don’t you?”

“Aaron,” Katelyn protested in a quiet, unhappy voice.

“I wasn’t the one to bring it up,” Andrew pointed out as his hands tightened around the steering wheel.

That seemed to deflate Aaron’s bad attitude as he slumped back in the seat and was quiet for the rest of the drive to the townhouse. After about ten minutes, Abram spoke out in Chinese. “ _Perhaps we can be assigned to Hungary a little early_.”

“ _Don’t tempt me_ ,” Andrew replied, but there was the slightest bit of humor in his deep voice and his grip relaxed.

It looked as if Aaron wanted to say something when they reached the townhouse, but Katelyn managed to step on his foot before she walked away from the car. “It’s lovely,” she said in a bright manner as they entered the building.

“Ah, thank you.” Abram was a little unnerved by how cheerful she was over everything, despite being used to Nicky’s exuberant nature; why was she with a dour person like Aaron? “Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?”

“Tea?” Aaron muttered as he glanced around. “Can he _be_ any more British?” That seemed to be directed at Andrew.

Katelyn’s smile appeared a little strained at the comment, and then Sir came trotting along, probably attracted to the sound of their voices. “Aw, would look at… him?” she asked as she glanced at Abram, who nodded. “Aw, such a pretty boy,” she cooed as she bent down to pet Sir, who began to purr at the attention. “And coffee, if it’s not too much trouble. We’re trying to stay awake until tonight, we heard it’s best for jet-lag.”

Abram made a quick escape to the kitchen and left it to Andrew to show _his_ family around the first floor of the townhouse. He heard Katelyn’s excited voice as the coffee brewed, and the three returned as he poured the hot beverage in four mugs; it didn’t come as a surprise when Andrew headed straight for the cabinet which contained the whisky.

“The place really is lovely,” Katelyn exclaimed as she leaned against the island as she looked around at everything. “I especially like the backyard. We keep talking about getting a townhouse one day, but we’re so busy with work right now that an apartment is easier to maintain.”

“It won’t be anything like _this_ ,” Aaron muttered, but he gave Andrew a slight, grateful smile when whisky was added to his mug of coffee. “We’re saving up enough money that we’ll get something nice for Charleston.”

“Just another year or two!” Katelyn gave a slight laugh as she leaned against her husband with an arm wrapped around his waist. “And by that point, we should be able to enjoy the new home! You know what they say about residents and long hours.”

Aaron grimaced at that. “I didn’t think anything could make me feel as tired as Day’s obnoxious practices when we reached the semi-finals, but a twenty-hour shift will do it.”

Abram perked up a little at the mention of Exy, at least until his husband gave him a ‘gentle’ kick in the right ankle. “So lots of long days, huh?” he asked as he got up to fetch a tin of biscuits to go along with the coffee, which he made sure to set close to Andrew. “I’m sure you have stories to tell, yes?”

He might not know how to deal with ‘normal’ people like Aaron and Katelyn after being raised by criminals and murderers, but he knew how to get people talking, especially after going to work for Lloyd. Especially after seeing the flashes of envy in Aaron’s eyes (an emotion so unfamiliar in Andrew’s) since picking the couple up from the airport.

It didn’t take much prodding for the two (especially Aaron) to reminisce about stories during their years as interns and residents, about the patients they’d treated while on the long training shifts and their fellow students. For a while it appeared that Aaron tried to disturb them by recounting the most gruesome stories that he could, but gave up when neither Abram nor Andrew were bothered (that and it seemed as if Katelyn did some kicking of her own).

If only Aaron had a clue what his brother had been up to the last few years, but all he’d been told was that Abram’s family was in ‘shipping and trading’ and that the two of them currently worked for the government.

Abram noticed that Andrew avoided looking at Katelyn directly when she talked, his gaze often cast at the mug held behind his hands, and figured that his husband still had some issues in regards to Aaron’s relationship. He also noticed that Aaron focused his attention on his brother rather than look at him, especially once it was clear that Abram wasn’t the ‘squeamish’ sort.

Andrew wasn’t the only one with his issues, it seemed.

Katelyn was in the middle of talking about some child who’d eaten too much raw pizza dough when her phone chimed. “Oh,” she said when she read the message. “We can check in now.”

Andrew stood up while Abram gathered the mugs. “It won’t take long to get to the hotel,” Andrew said as he walked away (probably for a cigarette before the drive into the city), and Aaron excused himself for a moment, which left Abram and Katelyn alone in the kitchen. He went to put the mugs in the dishwasher and was surprised when Katelyn came over with the tin of biscuits.

“Uhm, we really appreciate all of this,” she said in a quiet voice. “I know you don’t have to drive us around or have dinner with us and stuff, that it probably would have been enough for Andrew and Aaron to just meet up for coffee or something.” She gave Abram a wry smile when he held up one of the mugs. “He might not show it, but it means a lot to Aaron that Andrew’s willing to spend so much time with him after everything, and he’s… he’s trying, honest.”

Abram was beginning to see why Aaron had fought his brother so much (according to Nicky) for this woman, with her cheerful disposition, intelligence and obvious love for the man. “Well, he is a Minyard,” Abram said once the dishes were put away. “I know what to expect.”

She giggled a little and nodded. “Yes, and while they’re wonderful men, they’re stubborn as well. _Very_ stubborn.”

“Ah….” Abram made a show of holding up his hands and shaking his head in a clear sign of not wanting to incriminate himself (at least, not when there was a chance of Andrew walking in at any moment).

Katelyn giggled some more and gave him a sympathetic look. “Right, not trying to get you in trouble, but I understand. I can’t always say that we’ve gotten along,” she rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner at that, “but I’m happy that Andrew found someone.”

“Thank you.” Figuring it was best to change the subject before his husband returned, Abram motioned to the young woman’s purse. “So, there’s a couple of dinners we arranged and a friend of ours lined up a tour we think you and Aaron might enjoy, but do you want or need to do any shopping while you’re in town? Anything to take back home?” There’d been times when some friends of Nicky’s had come for a visit and needed souvenirs and the such. “I’ve a good friend who works at Harrods who can be of assistance.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Katelyn beamed at the offer and went on about a shopping list she’d been given by her coworkers and her mother, as well as a couple of items she’d hoped to find before she left; both Andrew and Aaron rolled their eyes as she talked while Abram sent a text to Liliya to arrange an afternoon when the two could meet up – maybe even have Nicky join in since he’d probably enjoy the excursion and got along well with Liliya.

Tension seemed to leave Andrew’s shoulders once the couple was dropped off at their hotel, and it was a quiet ride back to the townhouse. Abram made them some spiked tea and tugged Andrew out to sit by the pond, content to be alone with his husband once again. “That wasn’t too bad, was it? Katelyn seems nice.”

For once, he didn’t think the frown directed at the pond had anything to do with Andrew’s ‘dislike’ with the fish. “She’s still annoying as ever,” Andrew proclaimed before drinking his tea.

“Really?” Abram sighed as he leaned against Andrew. “How long are you going to hold this grudge? I mean, it’s just been… what, almost ten years? Something like that?” Couldn’t he just accept the poor woman already?

“Forgiven Ally for Calais yet?” Andrew asked as he stole Abram’s tea, the bastard.

“Never mind,” Abram sighed as he slumped down on the bench. “It’s going to be a few awkward dinners, how wonderful. At least I’m not driving.” He had a feeling that there would be at least a bottle or two of wine consumed at dinner.

“I put up with your insane family all the time, you can put up with Aaron and the cheerleader tramp for a few nights,” Andrew told him in that ‘agree with me or else’ tone that always made Abram want to grit his teeth.

“ _I_ don’t mind the cheerleader ‘tramp’, I just have to put up with some weird, twisted copy of you.” Abram scoffed as he thought about Aaron. “Does he really think he’s getting anywhere with those feeble scowls and insults? After I’ve lived with _you_ this long?”

There was a slight twitch to Andrew’s full lips before he finished _Abram’s_ tea. “It is rather amusing to see him try, isn’t it?”

“Prat,” Abram said as he rested his head on Andrew’s shoulder. “Why do I bother with you?”

“Someone has to remind you to feed the damn fish, _babe_.”

“More like make sure you don’t try to fry them up one day, _hon_.” Abram hummed in happiness as his husband tugged on a lock of his hair then closed his eyes so he could enjoy Andrew’s presence and the sound of falling water. It was quiet for at least a few minutes before Andrew tugged on his hair again, harder that time. “Ow, what?”

“Come on, it looks like it’s going to rain and I’m not about to have you get soaked then pass out on me during a mission again.”

“ _One time_ ,” Abram moaned as he stood up. “One fucking time. Are you ever going to let _that_ go, either?” he asked, even though he suspected he knew the answer already.

“ _No_ ,” Andrew said in a succinct manner as he gave him a slight push toward the townhouse. “Idiot.”

Abram wondered if he could get Katelyn alone during her visit and commiserate over living with a Minyard (former Minyard, in his case, he supposed) for a good hour or two, perhaps see if she had any advice which may come in handy (other than ‘render him unconscious for a bit of peace and quiet’).

*******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> One day I'm going to put all these Armies snippets into Armies itself. I know, I keep saying that. Or a separate 'post-Armies' fic. SOMETHING.
> 
> But for now, enjoy another short peek at the Armies world.
> 
> I probably should get back to RP now, wrap that up and then work on a bunch of other fics....
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> *******


	10. Andreil - I wish I'd never met you - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, since it's clear that there's a massive fail on finding my fics, that and the whole tumblr mess, I'm trying to do better at archiving various prompts here. Let's see if I can keep this up.
> 
> Little bit of angst.  
> *******

*******

“Oh wow, that’s like… the fourth person who’s hit on him tonight,” Nicky commented with a snicker as he and Andrew stood by the punch bowl (thankfully spiked) at the Christmas banquet, which was hosted by the Madison Dukes that year. Since Neil had taken over the captaincy of the Foxes that season, he got to spend the event wandering around the converted Exy court talking to the other captains with Kevin as his looming shadow; Andrew had tagged along with the two for the Fall banquet in September and decided it was too boring to suffer through it again.

Perhaps he’d have to rethink it for the next year, especially since Kevin ‘Queen Bore’ Day, wouldn’t be around then. Andrew had been under the mistaken belief that the overbearing striker would somehow discourage the gadflies who saw past Neil’s scars, Exy-fixation and obliviousness, but apparently he’d been mistaken. 

He was about to set aside his drink (not enough rum, but better than just fruit punch) when Neil stalked off with a slightly smirking Kevin following, leaving behind a stunned Cavalier dealer who appeared three seconds from bursting into tears. Her fellow teammates gave her consoling pats on the back, which led Andrew to believe that Neil had blown her off with his usual lack of tact.

“ _And another one bites the dust_ ,” Nicky sang out before he rolled his eyes. “That boy is going to be the death of… hmm, well, someone. So hot yet so cold, it’s an condrum.”

“Conundrum,” Andrew corrected the pest.

“Whatever,” Nicky flapped his left hand through the air as if he didn’t possess any wrist bones and sighed. “You need to talk to him.” When Andrew gave him a cold stare in return, Nicky merely flapped his hand again; huh, perhaps the punch was stronger than Andrew had thought. “Fine, let him keep on breaking hearts.”

Exactly.

Lacee, the team’s vice-captain, had joined up with Kevin and Neil by the time heart-breakee number five approached. Andrew had taken to texting with Bee by then and so had missed the Spartan’s arrival, only to look up when Nicky drew in a sharp breath followed by a wince.

Jon Morrison was one of the better backliners on the team, was built enough to make Andrew give him a second glance, blond and blue-eyed and supposedly a nice guy. He certainly smiled enough and didn’t seem put off by Kevin’s arrogance or Lacee’s prickly personality, and Neil didn’t brush him off within two minutes.

“Uhm… I’m sure they’re just talking about racquets or something,” Nicky murmured as he glanced back and forth between Andrew and the small group halfway across the court. “You know how Neil is about stuff like that.”

All Andrew knew was that Neil didn’t often smile at strangers in such a genuine manner, or let them stand so close to him. But then again, there was someone who was taller than Andrew, was better looking, who could smile and laugh and wasn’t broken, who was a pretty good Exy player. What else could Neil want, he thought to himself as his _friend_ continued to talk to the guy for several minutes, until Kevin dragged him away so they could ‘network’ with another team.

Nicky took one look at Andrew and mumbled something about having to find Abby.

After spending a few minutes with a few Lions, Neil and Kevin headed for Andrew (and the punch bowl) while Lacee went to join her roommates out on the dance floor. A smile spread across Neil’s face, a little lopsided because of his scarred left cheek, when he came near Andrew. “I think I’m about all talked out,” he declared as he leaned in to smell the contents of Andrew’s cup then wrinkled his nose as he picked up on the alcohol; Kevin, of course, went to pour himself a full cup of the spiked punch.

“Impossible,” Andrew said in a tone of voice devoid of all emotion, his expression just as blank.

“I know, it would make your night.” Neil leaned in a little closer but didn’t touch. “ _Or would it_?” he murmured in Russian, his smile right then a secretive thing. “ _You usually enjoy making me quiet_.”

When Andrew remained expressionless and didn’t say anything, that smile faltered and Neil rocked back on his heels. “Is everything all right?”

“ _I’m fine_ ,” Andrew replied as he gazed over Neil’s left shoulder, completely deadpan. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of emotion on his _friend’s_ face, a flicker of hurt and confusion, before Neil employed a mask of his own - a slight smile and no emotion in those pale blue eyes.

Neil stepped a few feet away and chatted with the various Foxes and players who came up to him during the remaining half an hour at the banquet; there were some odd glances from their teammates at the two of them standing so ‘far’ apart and appearing to ignore each other, including a worried look from Kevin.

When Morrison came over to talk to Neil again, Andrew had enough and went outside for a cigarette, unwilling to watch any longer. He didn’t have a claim on Neil, there was _nothing_ between them, as he’d long insisted. Neil had always been a pipedream, a fantasy on his part - someone too good to be true, to be believed, and he’d known it would come to an end at some point. In about a year and a half, he’d graduate and go on to play in the pros, and they both knew the chances of them signing to the same team were slim to none.

He’d leave PSU, would leave Neil behind, and there’d be a lot of Morrisons willing to step into his place. People who could give Neil more than ‘nothing’.

It might take Neil a little while to realize what he had before him, but he’d get over Andrew. If he could fall for someone as broken and useless as Andrew, he could for someone who was so much better in every way. The spark was already there, from what Andrew could tell.

He’d gone through three cigarettes while standing outside in the cold without his coat when Neil came out to find him, dressed in his own coat and holding Andrew’s. “There you are - took me a few minutes to find you. We should be heading to the hotel soon.” He held out Andrew’s coat and sighed after a few seconds when it was ignored. “Seriously, is everything all right? Did I do something wrong?” When Andrew dropped the butt of his cigarette to the ground and shook out another one - just for him - Neil jerked his right hand through his hair. “I thought that you didn’t care if I went off with Kevin and talked to everyone. ‘No Exy shit for once’, you said, to leave you out of it.”

“I did, and it was great,” Andrew said after he blew out a plume of smoke. “I wish all banquets were like tonight, not having to deal with you and your junkie obsession.”

Neil drew in a sharp breath at that as if he didn’t believe what Andrew had just said, then gave a weak chuckle. “I know it’s a bit much at times, but now that I’m-”

“No, not ‘at times’,” Andrew drawled as he flicked ash aside. “It’s always too much and I’m tired of it. If I wanted to deal with Exy all the time, I’d be fucking Kevin, not you, and catch a break on the nonstop disasters you drag me into on top of all the stupid stickball.” He put as much derision in his words as possible, well aware of how they’d affect Neil, how deep they’d cut.

Best to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Neil clutched Andrew’s coat to his chest as if it could shield him from Andrew’s disdain. “What… what are you saying?” he asked, as if he truly was the idiot Andrew called him all the time.

“That I wish I’d never met you,” Andrew told him in the coldest tone possible as he flicked the cigarette at Neil’s feet.

It was quiet for almost a minute before Neil gave a slight nod of his head. “I see.” He tossed Andrew his coat. “I’ll crash with Matt and Geordie tonight.”

“For the best,” Andrew said as he caught his coat with one hand, his gaze adverted from the awful blankness on his _friend’s_ face, the stiffness in his _friend’s_ back while he stalked away as if he was holding something terrible inside (something painful inside).

Andrew refused to feel anything himself other than resignation and emptiness; he’d known this day was coming, after all, so there was no need for a sense of loss when he’d never _had_ Neil in the first place.

There were more annoying worried looks when the Foxes gathered to return to the hotel where Wymack had put them up for the night, when Andrew sat at the back of the bus alone while Neil was up front with Matt and Abby. The rabbit was quick to leave as soon as the door opened, while Andrew lingered until everyone else exited… which meant that Wymack was waiting for him by the door. “Is something going on with you and Neil?”

“Not within your pay grade,” he reminded the man with a jaunty salute while giving a pointed look out at the parking lot.

“Dammit, Andrew….” Wymack took a deep breath as he stepped aside. “Whatever it is, figure it out quickly,” he shouted as Andrew left the bus. “Don’t be a stubborn, stupid ass!”

How nice, of course it was Andrew’s fault, wasn’t it? That people assumed he’d done something wrong. Like Nicky, who was hovering in the hallway near the room he was supposed to share with Neil, but that time a cold look made his cousin blanche and shake his head. 

“Uhm, I’m here if you need to talk,” Nicky all but squeaked before he ran off to the room he was sharing with Kevin.

At least Aaron was too busy with his little cheerleader to butt in, and Kevin probably already halfway through the room’s minibar. Andrew entered his room to find that Neil, always the fast one, had already been there and grabbed his stuff, which was _fine_ with him.

He spent the night working his way through the bottle of whiskey he’d brought along for the banquet and then the room’s minibar, and ignored all the texts and calls everyone sent him, including Bee.

Word must have spread through the team by morning that something was up between him and Neil (he blamed Matt), because when he shuffled downstairs to hit up the buffet for coffee and pastries right before the Foxes had to return to Madison for the last of the banquet, most of them were glaring at him (save Jack and Sheena, who were smirking in delight). Andrew didn’t give a shit, especially when most of the baby Foxes seemed determined to protect their precious captain from mean old him and so kept Neil out of his line of sight for the rest of the day.

Aaron came over with a cup of sweetened coffee at one point, during the last hour of the cursed event, the cheerleader nowhere in sight. “Two of you have a fight over who’s crazier or something?” he asked as he handed Andrew the beverage. 

Unamused, Andrew gave his brother the finger even as he accepted the coffee. When he didn’t say anything, Aaron’s expression turned thoughtful. “It can’t be serious, right? Not the two of you.” When Andrew remained quiet, Aaron’s brows drew together and he rocked back on his heels. “Seriously? All the shit you’ve been through and what, you split up right before the holidays? Was it your idea or his?” Then he scoffed and shook his head. “Never mind, dumb question.” He actually looked disappointed right then. “I don’t get you, which is nothing new, but why the hell make us deal with all of his bullshit if you were just going to do something like this?” He didn’t say anything else, he just flipped Andrew off and stomped away, probably to go complain to his cheerleader.

Neil once again sat at the front of the bus, and after staring after him for almost twenty minutes, Andrew clicked his tongue and fell asleep, making up for the lack of rest he’d gotten the night before. When they reached the Foxhole Court, Neil rode with Matt back to the Fox Tower, which left Andrew alone with his own private chorus of disapproving souls.

Nicky stomped off to the bedroom and slammed the door shut once they were back in the dorm room, Aaron dropped off his bag and then walked out, probably to go spend time with the cheerleader, while Kevin set his bag down and gave Andrew a disapproving frown. “ _This_ is why team relationships are a bad thing,” he started while Andrew went to the kitchen to fetch some beer. “You have to fix things before it affects our chances during the play-offs!”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Andrew told the Exy addict. “It’s over between us, he accepts it and moves on or it’s his fault.” When Kevin appeared ready to continue with the lecture, Andrew slipped a knife free and waved it in front of the tall bastard’s face. “Ah, ah, this topic is officially closed, no more discussion.”

Kevin waited until he was almost out of the kitchen to speak again. “You were happy with him, I know you were. I’ve no clue why you broke up with him, but it’s a mistake, Andrew. Fix it before you regret it.”

He flipped the knife high enough up in the air for Kevin to see it. “No discussion about that, either.” He didn’t believe in regret, especially about something that was never going to last in the first place.

Neil didn’t come back to the room that night, and the next day, when they were supposed to leave for Columbia, Nicky dared to approach Andrew when he was brewing coffee. “Matt just called me to say that he was on his way back from the airport - he’d dropped Neil off to catch a flight.”

For a moment Andrew felt his body lock up at the memory of the last time Neil had run off to catch a flight over winter break, had Matt take him to the airport. “Where?” he gritted out as he turned around.

“To the UK,” Nicky told him, his expression sullen and the words spit out with enough spite that it was clear who he was blaming for Neil’s change of plans. “Apparently, _this_ time Neil really is going to spend the break with his uncle since he wants nothing to do with us. I wonder why.” He glared at Andrew for a few seconds before he muttered something in Spanish about heartless assholes then left the kitchen.

Andrew tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, that it was better for Neil to go, to put distance between them. He had to get used to the idea that Neil wouldn’t always be there, that it hadn’t made sense for Neil to still go to Columbia with them over break.

Yet he still had expected that, had still counted on Neil _being_ there even if they weren’t together.

It was another grim car ride that day, with no one appearing willing to talk to Andrew the entire way to Columbia; he was _fine_ with that. Once they reached the house, he went up to his bedroom while Nicky started cleaning in preparation for Erik’s arrival, and as soon as he closed the door he was figuratively smacked in the face with all the little bits of Neil scattered about the room - the idiot’s hoody draped over the back of the desk’s chair, a knitted cap he wore when jogging on the shelf, a couple of sketchpads on the desk, a spare pair of runners by the closet, the pictures on the dresser. Andrew stalked over to the piece of furniture with the intent of knocking them over, but as soon as he touched the first one, the photo that Nicky had taken of him and Neil out by the fire pit in the backyard one night, Neil’s eyes lit up by the flames and the small but happy smile on his face as he tucked himself next to Andrew….

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t get rid of any of the things.

It only got worse when Erik arrived later that day, when he had to witness how _happy_ Nicky was to have his fiance back once more. Andrew and Neil had never been that demonstrative while around other people, had never groped each other in public all of the time, but Neil would have his little smiles and tilts of the head which would be his way to silently ask if it was all right to hold Andrew’s hand or sidle next to him, to tuck back a stray lock of Andrew’s hair.

Dammit, Andrew had been so focused on what was best for Neil, he’d never thought about what Neil was for _him_.

“He’s better without me,” he told Bee when she called yet again to check up on him for some reason. “He’ll find someone else with no problem.”

Bee’s sigh just then was a long and drawn-out thing. “For someone who strongly dislikes anyone telling him what to do or dictating his life, I’m rather disappointed in you right now, Andrew. Those are rather strong assumptions, ones which Neil might disagree with you upon. Not only have you made a decision for him, but you’re playing with his present and future. How do you _know_ he’ll find someone?”

Andrew clicked his tongue while he fought the urge to get up and pour himself a drink. “Because anyone’s better for him than me.”

“Again, I think Neil would disagree with you on that. You should have at least talked to him before you broke things off,” Bee argued. “It might have saved both of you a lot of misery.”

“What does it matter? He’s gone now, probably never to return.” Stuart wasn’t a fan of Andrew’s and probably was doing his best to convince Neil to transfer to Cambridge or Oxford or whichever British university had a decent Exy team so he could still fulfill his obligation to Ichirou but not return to the US.

“Perhaps, and perhaps not. Throwing in the towel so quickly? That’s also not like you,” Bee said before she wished him a Merry Christmas.

He stewed over her words all through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which he suffered more PDA’s from Nicky and Erik, and Aaron always being on the phone with Katelyn. Where he kept looking at the gift bag containing the outfit he’d gotten for Neil a few weeks ago, something a little different from the usual club clothes for once.

Tired of dealing with his family, he slipped out onto the back porch to smoke and was staring up at the stars when Kevin came out to join him. “Go away,” he told his friend, in no mood for company or to hear about how he better ‘fix’ things with Neil so the Foxes didn’t lose any games.

Instead, Kevin shoved a card at him. “Your present,” the striker said, his voice lower than normal.

“Huh, it better not be a gift card for Exites or I’m making you eat it,” Andrew warned as he opened the damn thing; he frowned in confusion upon examining its contents, which was a receipt for a plane ticket to London, dated for in the morning, and an address. “What is this?”

“Stuart Hatford’s address in London and a ticket to get you there,” Kevin explained as he stood there with his arms folded over his chest, appearing so much like Wymack just then that Andrew felt the urge to smack him on mere principle.

“And how did you get it?” Andrew didn’t even have the man’s number - the paranoid prick changed it regularly and Neil never kept it saved on his phone.

“I called in a favor.” When Andrew’s eyes narrowed, Kevin’s stance loosened a little. “I’ll be headed to New York City while you’re in London to do some promotional campaigns, it’ll be all right,” he assured Andrew. “Thea’s going to join me.”

“So you pimped yourself out for Hatford’s address.” He was mildly impressed at the moment.

“Yes, so get on the damn plane, behave yourself around the big UK mafia family and get Neil back here,” Kevin gritted out. “ _Fix it_ , understand?” He gave Andrew an impressive glare for several seconds before he stomped off while grumbling in a mix of French and Japanese.

Someone was getting a bit uppity with their graduation and pro career looming, but Andrew would deal with him later; he had to pack for a flight, after all.

At least Kevin had bought him a first class ticket.

It was slightly more bearable to be stuck on a plane when he had more space and lots of free alcohol, but it was still being up in the air for several hours, which sucked. Then he got to put up with the horrible traffic leaving Heathrow airport to reach the hotel which Kevin had also arranged for him, where he showered, changed, replaced his knives (which had been checked in his luggage) and got into another taxi to take him to the address which his friend had provided.

By that point it was early afternoon, and he was prepared to spend the entire day waiting outside the house if need be for Neil to show up. Considering that he’d been the one to break up with his friend and so set off the chain of events requiring him to fly across the Atlantic to… he didn’t know, admit that he’d been the idiot that time, he didn’t expect much other than to have a door slammed into his face at best, or some large thug drag him into a dark alley to beat him up at worst.

Mindful of the whole ‘large thug’ thing, he made sure his knives were accessible before he rang the doorbell to the townhouse with the red door.

It took a couple of rings before one Stuart Hatford opened it, dressed in worn jeans and a light blue sweater. “Fuck me,” he breathed out at the sight of Andrew, then his pale grey eyes narrowed as his left hand clutched at the side of the door. “Get the fuck out of here, you stupid git.”

Andrew was quick to brace the door before it was slammed in his face. “Not before I talk to Neil.”

“You leave or I shoot you, take your pick.”

“Awful brazen to do it in public like this,” Andrew pointed out. “Just let me talk to him, it’s a lot easier.”

“You don’t listen very well, do you? Get the-”

“Uncle Stuart?” Neil’s voice called out from somewhere nearby, which made Stuart close his eyes and sigh. “Who’s there?”

“An unwelcome pest,” Stuart grumbled even as he stepped aside so Neil could see Andrew. “Say the word, kiddo, and I’ll have Davis take out the trash.”

Neil’s eyes went wide at first when he caught sight of Andrew, and then his expression smoothed out; he was wearing a pale green sweater and jeans which looked new, and someone had talked him into a haircut as well. Still, Andrew could tell that he’d lost a little weight and there were shadows beneath his eyes as if he wasn’t getting enough sleep.

“What are you doing here?” Neil asked as he took Stuart’s place by the door, but didn’t open it any wider. “How’d you find this place?”

“You’re not the only one with connections,” Andrew said, then waited for Neil to respond. After several seconds, he let out a slight huff. “It’s polite to welcome people inside when they come a long way to visit you.”

“That’s so you can hold a conversation. I didn’t think we had anything to say to each other anymore.”

Of course Neil wouldn’t make it easy for him. “If we didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, why is that? I would think you’d prefer me long gone, considering you regret ever knowing me.” Neil cocked his head to the side in a clear indication that he wanted an answer.

“Can we not do this on opposite sides of a door?” Andrew asked through clenched teeth.

Neil debated it for a moment before he called out to Stuart that he’d be back in a few minutes, and would call if he needed a clean-up.

Stuart, the asshole, told Neil to go to the one park at the end of the street, which was private and would make the clean-up easier.

After grabbing a jacket which appeared to have been hung near the door as well as stepped into some shoes, Neil finally came outside; Andrew felt such an ache at having his friend near him again, at catching the glint of sunlight on Neil’s auburn hair, the sight of those long lashes framing pale blue eyes, the faint freckles dusting that upturned nose. It shocked him how much he wanted to ask ‘yes or no’ right then and pull Neil in for a kiss… but he wasn’t certain that he’d be told ‘yes’ anymore, was he?

Neil did indeed take him to a private park at the end of the block, near a small church, which was quiet and abandoned and filled with tall trees bereft of leaves, their skeletal branches reaching high into the air. There were even a few old graves at the thing, which Neil led him around on his way to a stone bench. “Why did you come here?” he asked again.

“Did you like talking to all those people at the banquet?” Andrew countered as he stood near Neil, his hands shoved into his black coat both to keep them warm and to prevent himself from reaching for something that he couldn’t have.

Neil frowned at the question. “It was fun talking about Exy, at least when they weren’t insulting the Foxes or me being a new captain. I know you don’t care enough about it to do it, so yeah, it was something different.”

“And Morrison? Was it fun talking to him?”

A look of confusion came over Neil’s face. “The backliner? He was asking a lot of questions about Jean since we’re friends.” The expression turned to one of contemplation. “Kevin was amused at first, then got really snarky with him for some reason. When I asked him about it, he said that Jeremy wouldn’t be happy.”

Andrew felt like kicking something - all of this, and the guy he was so certain Neil might have an interest in, who could do a better job taking care of Neil than him… had wanted _Jean Moreau_. “I hate my life,” he muttered as he rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“Good,” Neil told him with a too-sweet to be trusted smile. “Now my turn for answers - why the hell are you here?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Andrew admitted. “I thought you might be interested in Morrison and were better off with him than me.”

It was quiet save for the faint hum of cars off in the distance and the wind blowing dried leaves along the stone ground of the park. Neil was quiet as he gaped at Andrew, and then he let out a low, furious torrent of Russian, Spanish, French and German, switching too quickly between the languages for Andrew to understand.

Well, other than he was rather certain that Neil agreed about the ‘idiot’ part.

Andrew lit a cigarette while he waited for Neil to run out of steam, which was about a minute and a half later. “Feel better?”

“I don’t know, I’m seriously considering calling for that clean-up,” Neil confessed as he gazed up at Andrew. “You really broke up with me because you thought I’d be happier with someone else? _Really_?” He scowled when Andrew nodded. “How about I have Davis and Bren beat you up a little? Just a concussion and maybe some bruised ribs? You’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

“I am not amused,” Andrew let it be known as he flicked ash aside. “Especially since that means I’ll be ready to play for the first game in January.”

“Well that was _really_ stupid of you,” Neil said as he folded his arms over his chest. “Do you have any idea what it’s going to take to make this up to me?”

It felt like the reverse of a punch to the chest just then, hearing those words; like something exploded outward, a feeling of warmth and peace which still took Andrew’s breath away. “I _flew to London_ ,” Andrew made known as he tossed the cigarette away. “I _didn’t_ stab your uncle when he was an asshole.”

“Not enough,” Neil argued as he slowly reached out to tug on the hem of Andrew’s coat and pull him to the bench until Andrew sat down. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

That’s what Andrew had a slight bit of anxiety about, considering how much of a walking disaster Neil was (not to mention that whole ‘let’s have my uncle’s thugs beat you up’, which they would talk about… later. Back in Columbia. When Neil had calmed down). Right then, Andrew was content to sit next to his friend (okay, he needed to move past that) while Neil held out his hand so they could entwine their fingers together and wait to hear about how they would move on together.

*******

 


	11. Andreil - family cruise prompt - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - this year my family has decided we’re celebrating the holidays on a cruise and you’re the cute bartender who teases me for mourning the lack of snow, andreil? 
> 
> Warnings would be reference to what the Hatfords do (not always nice things), consider this sorta an Armies AU?  
> *******

*******

Abram gave Jamie an incredulous look when she showed up at his flat with the news that Aunt Miriam had booked a Portugal river cruise for the family over the holidays. “Why?” he asked for what had to be the fourth time. “Doesn’t she understand that there’s work and-”

“It’s because of work that she did it,” Jamie said as she stepped out of his closet with one of his suitcases. “This way you and Uncle Stuart aren’t too busy with stuff to attend the family dinner or even take a break, nor Henry off in Edinburgh like last year.”

“So she traps us together on a boat,” Abram said as he wandered off to fetch a bottle of wine - no, wait, gin would be better. Jamie trailed after him, a bemused grin on her face when she saw him fetch the bottle. “Traps us on a boat with _Ally_.”

That wiped away Jamie’s smile and made her fetch another glass, which she motioned for him to pour gin into, along with a splash of lime juice. “All right, perhaps it’s not one of Mum’s best ideas but it won’t be _too_ bad.” She sighed when Abram scoffed at that statement. “I’ll help you throw the git overboard if he causes trouble?”

He had a few swallows of the rather strong gin gimlet while he considered the offer. “Can we weigh him down first?”

“Hmm… sadly, no. Mum at least would probably object, possibly Dad, too.”

Dammit, he supposed his aunt and uncle were somewhat attached the pain in the ass, and would have to settle for the thought of Ally swallowing copious amounts of river water and looking like a drowned rat.

Abram spent the days leading up to the cruise working frantically on everything in his inbox, on clearing out as much he could before Aunt Miriam’s ‘no work unless absolutely vital to the organization’ moratorium came into effect. He didn’t know what he was going to do during the ten day cruise when he was used to just spending a day or two on the holidays at best.

He was eternally grateful for his aunt and uncles in taking him in, in providing him sanctuary when his mother had worked up the courage to send him away after his father had broken his left arm and left him covered with cuts for ‘interrupting’ an important meeting - he’d been little more than six years old at the time, and already bore several scars from his father’s ‘lessons’, including one from an iron on his shoulders. His mother had finally reached her breaking point, at least in regards to the abuse directed his way, and he’d been on a plane the next day, confused and doing his best to hide his fear while he traveled with a stranger (an old Hatford associate) to London.

His mother hadn’t lasted long after that act of defiance, which the Hatfords had made sure Nathan Wesninski had paid for, and Abram had never forgotten the debt he owed his mother for ensuring he escaped that house of fear and pain, nor her family for taking him in. He loved Stuart for giving him a real home at last, as well as Uncle Will, Aunt Miriam and his cousins… he just wish they’d leave him alone to do his job.

“Don’t look so glum,” Bren said as the enforcer drove him to the airport, where he’d catch a flight to Lisbon for the first part of the cruise. “You’ll see some pretty things, enjoy some good food and drinks, and bring back a bunch of stupid shite for us, right? Just try not to kill anyone during your holiday and surprise us all.”

Abram glared at his bodyguard/friend through the rear-view mirror. “Very funny. Just for that, no souvenirs for you.”

“Okay, go ahead and kill someone,” Bren sulked. “Don’t want you to be all grumpy when you don’t get to be stabby.” He laughed when Abram made a rude gesture. “Least _I_ don’t have to be the one to clean it up this time!”

Abram wished Bren a happy holiday with his girlfriend (part of the reason the man was staying behind in London while Davis, Cal and Liz were tagging along to help watch over the family), then checked in and joined the rest of the family in the VIP lounge; it was odd to be flying for personal reasons and not business for once.

He had a glass of wine while waiting for the flight and chatted with Stuart, Henry and Liz while Jamie seemed to be stuck with keeping Ally under control. They kept their discussion general, about the changes to the itinerary they planned over the next week and a half (Abram loved his aunt, but there was only so much ‘tourist’ stuff he could do) until it was time to board the plane.

Ally kept leaning over his seat to ask Abram for pick-up lines in Portuguese, until Aunt Miriam used that particular tone of voice of hers to make him sit back down and behave, at which point in time Abram pulled out his tablet and watched a movie in Russian (passable, but a good excuse to keep his headphones in and ignore everyone else). 

It was a short drive to the hotel where they were staying for the first day; Abram had been to Lisbon twice before so he only left his room when Jamie dragged him out for some drinks and snacks, rarely able to refuse her anything. He had to admit that it was an enjoyable few hours, watching the way that his cousin drew men’s attention, the confident yet not cruel way she turned them down, content to spend the time with him.

“Some of them are interested in you,” she pointed out. “Still no interest?”

“Still no interest.” He knew his cousins hoped that he’d find someone to date one day, that his uncles and aunt worried about him, but after what had happened to his mother and the Walker syndicate’s attempt to ‘sweeten’ him up that time… no, he was fine. He’d never had more than a passing interest in anyone, male or female, and was best on his own.

“You need to live more, Ram,” Jamie told him. “Do more than translate and look after the family.” When he gave her a blank stare for that statement, she sighed and shook her head. “Okay, I won’t bring it up for the rest of the year.”

“Lucky me,” he said, the words loaded with sarcasm since that wasn’t much of a reprieve and she knew it.

The next day was spent touring the city during the first half, then they finally got on the boat so they could set sail on the river to Porto. At least Aunt Miriam had booked them the largest rooms that the boat had, so Abram had a small bedroom and a sitting area, as well as a balcony and private bath.

He spent part of the first afternoon exploring the ship, making sure he knew as much of it as possible (old habits from work, from needing to know the exits to everywhere and places to hide in case the job went pear-shaped), then met up with everyone for dinner. As Bren had said, the food was good and there were several bottles of wine to go along with it, although he only had two glasses; he enjoyed watching his family relax, in hearing Uncle Will and Stuart retell stories from their childhood, to watch Jamie and Henry and even Ally laugh.

Cal and Liz made sure that everyone got back to their rooms safely, though Stuart asked Abram to join him at one of the bars, where he ordered a gin gimlet and a whisky for them. “I wish your mother was here for this,” he said after the bartender, a young man with blond hair who appeared even shorter than Abram’s 5′3″ height, served them their drinks. “She’s the only thing missing.” He raised his glass in a toast. “To Mary.”

“To Mary,” Abram echoed as he clinked their glasses together, his throat tight as he thought about his mother. “Though she’d complain about wasting all this money when we could have just stayed at home.”

Stuart snorted at that, to the point that he almost spilled his drink. “Damn right she would, unless it was her idea in the first place.” He shook his head and stared at Abram with something resembling nostalgia. “You’re so much like her, you know?” That surprised Abram because from what he could tell, he took after his detested father with his pale blue eyes and auburn hair, even down to most of his facial features - what he had inherited from his mother was the Hatfords’ lack of height and slim build. “There’s days when I think she sent you to me so I’d be plagued by her all over again.” Now his expression was pure fondness.

“I try my best,” Abram admitted, the words rough as he thought about how he did do his best not to let his uncle down.

“I know, kiddo.” Stuart reached out to ruffle his hair; Abram caught the bartender gazing at them and had to wonder what the man thought of their conversation.

Fortunately it took a more mundane turn after that, with them joking about what to get Bren and the others for souvenirs, and after one more drink they retired to their respective rooms. Abram found himself returning to the bar often, either to get out of his room or to join one or more of his cousins, or for an after-dinner drink with Stuart. Most of the time, the handsome bartender with the intent hazel eyes was there, to the point that he’d have a gin gimlet ready for Abram soon after he arrived.

It was when they’d reached Régua that Abram sat down at the bar alone, his mood sour as he thought about ‘celebrating’ Christmas Eve with his family in another couple of hours. “Aren’t you supposed to be wandering around some palace,” the bartender - Andrew - asked as he set down the gin gimlet.

“I’m not really in the mood for that,” Abram confessed as he stirred the drink with the plastic stick. “For pretending to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’, or dealing with Ally asking me yet again for pick-up lines I don’t even know, or smiling for my aunt when I’m bored out of my bloody mind.” He let out a weary sigh before he picked up the drink and drained most of it in one go. “And I’m bloody sick of all this sun,” he added on to the growing list before he set the glass down on the immaculate bar. “I want to be back in London, or at least Aunt Miriam could have picked a place with _snow_. I _miss_ snow - what’s the point of a holiday trip when there’s no snow? Why can’t we be at some chalet or something?” Then he thought about it for a moment. “Except I don’t like skiing, I suppose. Might be worth it, though, to shove Ally off a mountain.” Oops, he probably shouldn’t have said that in front of Andrew.

Except there was the slightest of quirks to the left corner of Andrew’s mouth as he wiped at the already clean bar. “Of course you’d whine about such a thing. I don’t like snow, though I agree with you on shoving your one cousin off a cliff.”

“Hmm.” Abram finished his drink then indicated he wanted another one. “You’re American, what are you doing working a cruise like this?” That had been bothering him the last few days, and if Andrew was willing to talk…. “Sorry, if that’s a personal question.”

Andrew shrugged then surprised Abram by pouring another drink - a whisky, neat - which appeared to be for him. “My cousin lives in Germany and after I graduated university, I decided to stay with him for a while. Was looking for a job and since I knew bartending and German, this was a good fit.” He paused to toss back the drink, his attention never wavering from Abram. “I don’t usually work this cruise, I stick with German ones, but I was asked to fill in.”

“I’m glad you did,” Abram said, and for some reason he felt his cheeks heat up. “Uhm, I mean… you do a very good job?” Why did that come out as a squeak?

Andrew continued to regard him for several seconds then motioned to the ignored gin gimlet in front of Abram, which he’d been neglecting. “What do you mean by not knowing any pick-up lines? I’ve heard you speak Portuguese and it sounds rather fluent to me.”

Abram had to wait until he finished swallowing to answer. “Ah, it’s just… I don’t pick people up? People don’t hit on me?” Did that make sense?

“I find that difficult to believe,” Andrew said as he looked Abram up and down; usually Abram found the gesture insulting, but right then… right then he felt his cheeks heat up again.

“I just, haven’t been interested in people before,” he tried to explain. “No one stands out to me.”

“No one?” Andrew continued to gaze at him until Abram had to duck his head and finish his drink.

“Ah… no, not usually.” 

It was quiet for about a minute or two, during which Andrew cleaned their glasses and Abram attempted to figure out what was going on. “You live in London?” Andrew finally asked.

“Yes.” Abram smiled, the expression a bit lopsided. “Though I do travel a lot for work.” He hoped that Andrew didn’t ask him about his ‘job’.

All the other man did was nod. “Yes, so do I.”

It was quiet again after that, with Andrew off to pour drinks for some other guests and Abram answering texts from Jamie and Stuart on his phone. He was about to leave when another gin gimlet was set down in front of him. “I have a day off soon,” Andrew told him. “When we dock at Salamanca. Could use an interpreter.” He didn’t say anything else, just stared at Abram as if daring him to do _something_.

Abram found himself smiling as he picked up the drink. “I’ve been told I’m a very good interpreter, as it happens to stand.”

Andrew nodded once then left to deal with more guests, which left Abram to finish his drink (it probably should be his last one if he didn’t want to embarrass himself at dinner). Even as he left the bar, the smile lingered on his lips, his foul mood from earlier utterly vanquished.

Perhaps Aunt Miriam’s idea had been a good one after all.

He still hoped to be able to throw Ally overboard before they returned to Porto, though.

*******

I couldn’t see Andrew teasing Abram THAT much, sorry. Not when they don’t know each other too well yet. 

So this is an Armies AU? Something like that. My head hurts.


	12. Andreil - secret santa prompt - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - i get your name during secret santa at work and use the same wrapping paper for my gift to my friend, so…sorry about all the sex toys. Andreil, for the winter prompts? 
> 
> Warning for mention of sex toys, vague references to Andrew's past

*******

“-and I just miss him, you know?” Nicky continued to whine. “We skype and everything, but it’s not the same as having Erik there in person. A person has _needs_.”

“A person _needs_ not to hear this shit,” Aaron informed their cousin with a disgusted expression while Andrew secretly agreed with his brother. “It was bad enough overhearing the two of you have phone sex when we were teenagers, spare us now.”

Nicky waved aside the complaint with a forkful of salad and kept on whining about his husband having been called back to Germany for a few months to deal with his father fracturing his hip. “Oh, like you wouldn’t be the same if Katelyn had to go home to Savannah to help out her parents, and you,” he paused as he looked at Andrew then gave a nervous chuckle. “Never mind, I’m just saying that I miss Erik, okay?”

“We _know_ ,” Aaron muttered as he picked up the last piece of his chicken salad sandwich. “You tell us at least once a day.”

“Excuse me for being sad that my husband’s in another country, especially at this time of year, you unromantic bastards,” Nicky snapped, then sighed as if to calm down. “Right, right, moving on.” He ignored Aaron’s quiet yet heartfelt ‘thank god’. “So, just another week before the holiday break, yeah!” Nicky seemed to summon some sort of enthusiasm, probably because he enjoyed all things Christmas-related despite (or maybe because) his somber upbringing - that and he’d spend the break with his husband. “Have you gotten your secret Santa present yet?”

Aaron groaned while Andrew paused in eating his French fries to inwardly wince at the question; the downside of working together at the Foxhole Shelter for women and children in need was that David Wymack, who ran the place, insisted on a big holiday party for its employees, which included a lot of food and a present exchange. It was his way of thanking them all for the hard work they put in for barely adequate pay, and a way that those who would be covering the holidays got to attend some sort of party.

Andrew didn’t mind the food part, especially when people like Renee and Bee tended to either make or bring some delicious desserts, but he hated having to remain at the thing for a couple of hours (boss’ orders) and take part in the mandatory gift exchange.

“I got Allison,” Aaron complained. “You know she’s going to be unhappy with whatever I get her. I wish we could do gift cards, but does Tiffany’s sell ones for the secret santa amount?”

“Uhm… maybe you can get some nice bath bombs?” Nicky offered. “You can’t go wrong with something like that, or a good tea gift box.” Aaron seemed to consider that and nodded in thanks. “What about you, Andrew?”

So much for the whole ‘secret’ thing, but Nicky lived for being both helpful and buying presents so it was easier to just answer him. “I got the new guy Wymack hired to help translate.”

Nicky grinned as he rested his elbows on the table. “Oooh, Josten? He’s a cutie.” He waited for some sort of reaction from Andrew, of which there was none, then sighed. “Any idea what you’re going to get him?”

“Nope.” Andrew shoved a couple of fries into his mouth to show that he was done with the conversation.

That prompted another sigh from his cousin. “Maybe I can ask Jean if he has any idea what Neil likes, other than cats.” He chewed on a hangnail for a couple of seconds. “Maybe a new sweatshirt or something? That boy is hot but he has no tastes in clothes.” Andrew silently agreed, dammit. “We’ll figure it out.”

Andrew wished that he could say he didn’t care and it not be a lie, but the truth was, the Foxhole had been abuzz about Wymack’s latest hire for the last couple of months; Neil Josten had quietly come in to assist Jean Moreau with the women and families seeking help who didn’t speak English, and most of the employees were enraptured with the young man with the dark hair (Andrew suspected it was dyed due to how its color varied slightly some weeks) and dark eyes (definitely contacts - he’d caught a hint of a lighter color the one time he’d talked to Josten for more than a couple of minutes when discussing the Cerritos’ case) and _very_ shy demeanor. The very shy young man who also happened to be attractive as hell.

Josten didn’t interact much with any employees other than Jean (who had a boyfriend, Andrew found himself thinking, much to his disgust), even though Matt did his best to entice Josten into joining him and Dan for lunch or dinner. When Kevin, the exercise addict, found out that Josten liked jogging (one of the few personal things the translator had revealed about himself, other than that he had two cats), he took to pestering the younger man in joining their amateur soccer team, to no avail. Allison kept leaving ‘subtle’ hints that Josten should join her and Renee out one night, to go shopping with them, only to be shot down to her growing frustration.

“I think she’s ready to drag him along by force, which… something tells me that’s not a good idea,” Renee confessed to Andrew one evening, after their biweekly sparring sessions. “There’s something guarded about him, have you noticed it?”

He gave a slight grunt as he wiped at the sweat on his face, mindful to the sore spot on his left cheek.

“Anyway, I hope he settles in with us better next year.” She took another sip of water then stood up. “I”m off to do some shopping, do you want to come with me?”

Not one of his favorite things to do, but he still had to get some presents, including Josten’s, and it was more bearable to do it with someone there to help run interference with the crowds as well as the pushy salespeople, so he nodded. Renee smiled as if pleased, and after they washed off and dressed, they went to the nearest mall where he suffered through her buying presents for Allison and Dan and Abby, and she helped him pick out something for Bee and Katelyn (it was only to make Aaron happy, dammit), and put up with him buying a bunch of sex toys for Nicky to make the man shut up about ‘missing’ Erik so much.

“Anything else?” she asked as she gazed with bemusement at the large, plain black bag containing Nicky’s presents.

He hesitated for a moment before heading into a men’s wear store he favored and picking out a cashmere sweater in a silvery grey that should fit Josten without being either too big yet too tight. If Renee noticed that it wasn’t the right size for him or Nicky or a color that Aaron would wear… she didn’t say anything, she just smiled in approval, especially when they hit a pet store before leaving where he bought a couple of cat toys as well.

If everything was well over the agreed upon secret santa limit, she didn’t say anything about that, either. Instead, she mentioned the double dark chocolate cupcakes she was bringing to the party that Friday.

Andrew was busy with work until then, with helping a couple of cases find the resources they needed to move on to new homes before the end of the year (to start new lives), and so realized last minute he had to wrap everyone’s presents Thursday night (since he’d agreed to work the holidays while Aaron and Katelyn were going to her family’s house and Nicky flying to Germany to be with Erik - Bee was having him over one night since she was working, too). Fortunately, he still had boxes and a roll of wrapping paper left over from the previous year and used it for everything, then threw the presents in the back of his GS before he went to bed.

Everyone was excited at work the next day; the families would have their own small party in another couple of days and were busy planning things already, while the employees did their best to ensure that everyone was in the holiday mood. As soon as it two pm, everyone but a couple of employees who’d volunteered to watch over the place headed to the one large breakroom which was filled with food and presents.

Wymack gave his usual horrible end of year speech about how proud he was of everyone and the hard work they’d done, their dedication and giving spirits, then wished them happy holidays and a wonderful new year. That was the sign for them to start eating (Andrew skipped the savory food and went right for Renee’s cupcakes) while Wymack started calling out names so they could come up for their secret santa presents.

Andrew noticed that Josten was off in one of the corners, a small plate of what looked to be Thea’s Chettinad chicken and some sort of fruit relish, nodding slightly while Jean chatted to him and Jeremy stood there with a pleased grin on his face as he gazed at his boyfriend. Josten’s dark hair was half in his face, as always, and he wore an overlarge grey sweatshirt which hid most of his hands and came almost to his knees.

It was the damn sugar in the cupcakes which made Andrew’s heart race all of a sudden.

Andrew’s name was called out so he went up to get his present, which turned out to be from Seth and was a box of chocolates - one of them containing a ghost pepper in it. He gave the laughing asshole an unamused look and the finger for the gag gift.

A few names later (Allison actually gave Aaron a nod of approval at the bath bombs he bought for her), it was Josten’s turn to fetch his gift; Andrew found himself filled with an odd sort of emotion as he watched the quiet young man accept the box from Wymack then return to his corner, despite Matt and Allison calling out for him to open it in front of everyone. He was one of _those_ people who peeled back the wrapping paper carefully, as if someone who didn’t care for surprises or was used to unpleasant ones in their lives, and handed the folded paper to Jeremy while he lifted the lid to the box.

All the while, Andrew watched on with impatience, the awful feeling growing stronger when Jean, who was standing right beside a blank-faced Josten, looked up to scowl at Andrew while Josten settled the lid back on the box and tucked it beneath his left arm. When Jean took a step forward as if to come after Andrew, Josten gave a slight touch to his arm and shook his head; the two men talked for about a minute before Josten left the corner and headed toward Andrew.

What the hell? What was wrong with a sweater and cat toys?

Josten’s expression remained blank as he extended the box to Andrew. “Would you care to explain?” he asked, his voice pitched low as if he didn’t want to draw too much attention to them. 

Andrew accepted the box and gave a cold look to Dan and Matt, who were watching things with obvious interest until they shrugged and stepped away. “I would think it’s self-explanatory,” Andrew said as he lifted the lid… and then got a look at the box’s contents. “Or maybe not. Shit.” Inside wasn’t the grey sweater and a bunch of catnip-filled toy mice and birds, but the sex toys he’d bought for Nicky. “There _is_ an explanation.”

“I certainly hope so,” Josten said, an edge of what sounded to be anger in his voice and tension in his jaw. “Because I don’t find this amusing.”

“I used the same wrapping paper for everything, and the tags must have gotten mixed up in the car - we’re exchanging presents later,” Andrew said as he set the box down on the table. “This was meant for someone else, your present must still be outside.”

The anger simmered in Josten’s false eyes for a few more seconds and then he began to chew on his full bottom lip. “So you didn’t mean to give me those things? It’s not a joke?”

“Not for you at least, but for someone else,” Andrew admitted, just in case Josten thought he was in the habit of handing out sex toys all the time. For some reason, the other man’s opinion mattered to him.

“Oh, okay.” Josten wiped his fabric-covered hand over his face and smiled, the expression slight yet relieved. “It’s just… well, it’s bit of a sore issue with me and I didn’t like that you… well, I’m glad that you didn’t mean it like that.”

“No.” By all rights, Andrew should leave it at that, should tell the man he’d get the present to him somehow (leave it at his desk) and walk away… but that damn _smile_ made him do something he’d probably regret if he believed in the emotion. “You’re working the holidays too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Josten - _Neil_ gave a slight shrug. “Just me and the cats so why not?”

“I am, too. I have something with my family after this, but I’ll be back on Sunday. How about I give you your present then?” Andrew offered while he told himself it wasn’t a big deal at all, especially if Neil said to just drop it off at his desk or something.

Neil did that whole chew on his lip thing again (which Andrew _hated_ , absolutely _hated_ ) then shrugged once more. “If you’re not busy, we can have coffee.” He gave a slight wave as he walked away.

Andrew merely stood there and watched him walk away, watched him say something to Jean which made the Frenchman stop glaring at last. He started when Bee showed up at his side and handed him a large slice of some sort of chocolate cheesecake. “Wrong size?”

“Wrong present, tags got mixed up,” he explained before he took a bite of the cake and hummed in pleasure.

“Looks like it ended up all right. Let me know if I need to set an extra plate at the table for dinner next week, all right?” She grinned at the narrow look he gave her then sauntered away.

Presumptuous much? Yet Andrew couldn’t help but glance back at the one corner and notice the slight smile on Neil’s lips, nor the way the young man kept glancing back at him during the rest of the party.

Perhaps not so presumptuous after all.

*******


	13. Andreil - supower prompt - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for a prompt about super powers.
> 
> Warning for Neil's childhood

*******

Neil’s mother explained it as something that the Hatfords had always been able to do, which wasn’t much of an explanation, really. “We’ve always been special, Abram,” she told him one day in that awful house back in Baltimore. “Your uncle Stuart can tell the history of an object by touching it, your uncle Will can influence the dreams of people.” A smile possessed with the slighest of quivers spread across her lips as she reached out to tuck back a curl falling onto his forehead. “Soon enough we’ll see what you can do, if you can influence emotions like me or something, maybe read thoughts like your gram could.”

It turned out that he could read the thoughts and intentions of a person if he touched them (a bit of Uncle Stuart and Gram Marion), and even force them to tell the truth. _Of course_ his father, Nathan Wesninski, knew about Mary’s gift, and so knew that Neil (Nathaniel) would have one too, and as soon as it manifested (when he was seven years old), put him to work in the ‘family’ business to help winnow out the plants and the traitors.

Mary grabbed Neil (Nathaniel), five million of Nathan Wesninski’s money and ran three years later.

His talent proved useful on the run, helped them to know who to trust and who not to, while Mary’s sowed confusion (and more) in their wake. By the time she’d died (too close a call with his father), he’d honed it well enough that, along with the rest of the stolen money and the skills she’d taught him over the years, he managed to set up the identity of ‘Neil Josten’ and form some sort of life.

It wasn’t much, but it allowed him a small apartment instead of some cheap motel (or homeless shelter or abandoned warehouse or even living in the back of a car), regular meals with fresh fruit, and even a cat he’d taken in from the streets. He’d started out in Millport, Arizona before he’d decided that a larger city might be best and moved to Reno instead; he couldn’t quite make himself return to California (where Mary had died and he’d buried her) but figured he’d remain out west a little longer before he tried Europe or Canada again.

Maybe he’d go to Russia next. At least as long as things were quiet, he had time to learn a new language or two (his Spanish was perfect by then, and his Russian coming along), and working in a coffee shop allowed him to use his gift to ‘keep an eye on things’ as well as help out with the tips. If he was more secure about his identity, he could have tried working in the casinos… but as it was, he supplemented his income now and then by playing the tables once he had a ‘feel’ for certain dealers.

No, it was enough that he could rest for a while after spending half his life on the run, could know the most pressing issue in his day was dealing with the morning rush and if he had enough cat litter for Shadow.

Oh, that and dealing with his coworkers trying to set him up with customers; Neil had never dated anyone, had never felt any desire to do so, especially with his circumstances. There’d been some interest on his part in kissing girls when he’d been younger, in figuring out _why_ people wanted to do it… but between his mother’s reaction to what he’d done and him sensing the girls’ thoughts upon touching them - he hadn’t felt the impulse to do it again.

He certainly didn’t feel like doing it with any of the people who came into the store and smiled at him, who tried to talk to him and let their fingers linger when they handed him their money or cards, or when he handed them their drinks. A good many of them just wanted a body to use (he might not understand _why_ , but he knew that much, especially when he could pick it up in their thoughts), and the rest had some unrealistic fantasy about him in their heads.

A couple had some very disturbing fantasies in their head.

“Come on, how can someone like you not really want to date another person?” Mel asked for what had to be the fiftieth time. “It’s such a shame.”

Neil shrugged and went back to wiping down the counter. “I’m not interested, okay?”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, just like she always did at his response, and settled her headset better over her braided, bright red hair. “I’m just trying to help you out, you know? You’re too young to be sitting at home all alone.”

“That’s why I have a cat,” Neil insisted.

All Mel did was give a weary sigh while Jorge, busy restocking, chuckled; the two of them huddled together by the drive-thru window shortly after that, probably to talk about Neil. He didn’t mind because he knew they were worried about him and trying to look after him in their own weird way.

One customer who didn’t try to hit on him all the time (or touch him) was Andrew, who appeared to be studying at the local university. He came in almost every day, a quiet presence who unnerved most of the staff with his impassive face and intent gaze. Yet Neil didn’t have a problem with him, not upon recognizing the guarded stance of someone who knew what it was like to be a target, that darkness in someone’s eyes which spoke of a childhood filled with pain and terror.

He didn’t know about Andrew’s past, but he suspected it hadn’t been much better than his own, so he treated the man politely and competently, even though he inwardly sighed and sometimes winced over the sugary concoctions he had to ring up - such as that day’s request for _six_ extra pumps of caramel flavoring.

“Something wrong?” Andrew asked, his deep voice as impassive as ever.

“They’re your kidneys,” Neil replied before he could stop himself. 

Yet Andrew always tipped well, despite comments like that (and ‘should I just give you the entire container of flavoring?’ or ‘want me to hold the coffee?’), and Neil was never bothered by the way the man’s hazel eyes stared at him the entire time Andrew was in the shop when if it was anyone else he’d be anxious and finding an excuse to touch them then flee.

He didn’t touch Andrew because… because it was clear that Andrew didn’t want to be touched. Because Andrew always kept a careful space between him and everyone else and set his card down instead of handing it over and motioned for his drink to be set down, too.

He didn’t think anything of the way that Andrew always came when he was working, or when Andrew started asking questions, such as noticing when he had cat hair on his shirt or when Mel finally made him pull his shoulder-length hair back.

Or when Andrew would comment on having been up all night working on a paper, or finished a book he liked. For some reason, Neil enjoyed hearing those little things, in finding things out the _normal_ way.

“What’s going on with you and the short dude?” Mel asked as they prepared the store for opening one morning. “He doesn’t talk to anyone but you.”

“None of you want to wait on him, so of course he doesn’t,” Neil pointed out.

“That’s not an answer.” Mel gazed at him for several seconds before she clicked her tongue. “ _Of course_ ,” she said, which didn’t explain much, then turned away to get the drive-thru ready.

Neil didn’t know what she meant until a week or so later, when Andrew went to pick up his drink (another sugary monstrosity) and nearly dropped it. Neil tried to help him catch it and… and their fingers brushed together, which prompted an image to appear in his head, an image of him with his back to the wall, all of his clothes gone (all of his scars gone) with Andrew on his knees and-

“You… you want to _blow_ me?” Neil blurted out in shock despite the line of customers waiting behind Andrew (despite there being more to it than just the image).

“Yes,” Andrew said, the words forced out of him by the other part of Neil’s power, his hazel eyes wide with rare surprise. “What- how did-”

Neil didn’t stay to answer; he shouted out to Mel and Rick and Lana that he was taking a break then fled.

Mel tried to scold him for leaving the line like that, but didn’t give him too much grief given how obviously upset he was, that and he worked the rest of the shift without a break to make up for it. He didn’t see Andrew for the rest of the day and assumed that he must have scared the man off for good.

What he did was jinx himself with that thought, because Andrew was waiting for him when he left the store in the afternoon, the scent of cigarettes clinging to him stronger than usual as if he’d been standing outside chainsmoking for the last hour or two.

“You,” Andrew called out as he stepped forward. “We’re talking, now.”

Neil sighed as he ran his fingers through his dyed black hair and wondered if he’d have to leave Reno already, would have to buy a new identity and redye his hair and get new contacts and… he realized how much he’d _settled_ into being Neil Josten, how much it would hurt to leave it behind.

“What’s to say?”

Andrew fell in step beside him and herded him toward an alley between a closed comic book store and a small tax firm. “A good bit, considering what happened earlier.” They stood across from each other in the shadow-filled space for a few seconds, gazes locked on each other and quiet, until Andrew sighed. “How did… do you have super powers?” Then he grimaced, another rare show of emotion. “I mean… how did you do that?”

Neil chewed on his bottom lip as he debated lying (his default for everything), on saying that he’d just guessed, but then Andrew continued speaking.

“Because I know I didn’t say anything.” His deep voice contained a hint of roughness, the only indication of how what he said bothered him. “So the only thing I can think of is you had some way to read my mind when you touched me.”

“That’s crazy.” Neil gave a crooked smile and fiddled with the cuffs of his long-sleeved hoody when he said that.

“Perhaps,” Andrew admitted. “But… but I was used to no one believing me for years, for no one listening to me, and then all it took was this one case worker looking at me and she seemed to know _everything_.” He rubbed at the black band around his left forearm while he shook his head. “So, are you like her?”

Neil slumped against the brick wall behind him while his mother’s voice raged inside of his head, yelling at him to never tell anyone what he was, about their power. Yet he’d already broken her rules by staying in one place, by daring to cobble together some sort of life.

“Yes,” he admitted in a quiet voice, and saw the tension in Andrew’s shoulders leech away slowly but surely; he knew from the touch earlier that Andrew wanted him (which he still didn’t quite understand) and was someone he could trust.

“What is it? What can you do?”

“It’s… I need to touch someone, but then I know their thoughts, know if they’re a danger to me or not.” Neil held up his bare right hand and waggled his fingers. “I can also make them tell me the truth. It’s not some big flashy thing like super-strength or lasers, sorry.”

Still, Andrew appeared mildly impressed. “It’s powerful enough.” For a moment there was something distant on his face before it became impassive once again. “Can you control it?”

“Eh?” Neil thought about it. “Somewhat, but I’m used to using it all the time.” He had to hold back on _why_ that was so, but suspected that Andrew had realized more than he’d meant to say.

“All right then, we need gloves for you.” Andrew nodded as he slowly reached out to grab onto Neil’s left sleeve. “Come on.”

“Eh, where are going?”

“Dinner.”

Neil blinked in confusion as he was led down the street, toward a parking lot, and felt the urge to use his talent to find out what was going on. But that wouldn’t be right, would it? So he sighed and allowed Andrew to pull him along like a dog on a leash, very confused yet… yet it was Andrew. Huh. He found himself smiling as he went along with the perplexing young man.

*******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, the caseworker (psychic, obviously), stepped in for Andrew before he went to the Spears and he found a safe home to adopt him. Still means he suffered a lot of terrible homes, but he found a good one at last - so no Spears, no juvie, but no reason for him to go to Columbia. Also, no Exy.


	14. Andreil - Are you mad at me? - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for the prompt 'Are you mad at me?'
> 
> Warnings for Andrew’s past/Drake (nothing explicit), as well as very brief mention of self harm.

It started with a dream about Drake - that wasn’t anything new, but not only was _Drake_ there but Neil as well, and Drake was taunting Andrew by holding Neil down and-

And it wasn’t a good start to the morning when he woke up an hour early, skin clammy and stomach threatening to rebel, only to lie in bed until the alarm went off. He didn’t talk to anyone that morning, not even Neil, as they went on their way to the gym to work out and then to class.

Neil gave him a few worried glances but was soon distracted by Wymack and Wilds and Kevin, by Exy shit and making sure that the Foxes were ready for their game with the Hornets that Friday. Nicky kept him distracted during lunch by talking about his classes and some outfit he wanted to buy, and then Neil had to struggle to hold on to his temper during afternoon practice when Jack and Sheena were up to their usual antics of ‘let’s be assholes and see how much we can insult our new vice-captain’. 

Andrew merely sat on the bench and watched it all, certain that Neil could handle it (had been handling it so far that season) and restrained by the mental image of where Drake’s hands were replaced by his own. He knew it was his fucked up mind playing tricks on him, was a hold-over from the nightmare…but something inside him went cold at the thought of adding to the marks already marring Neil’s skin, to harming him when he’d already overcome so much.

To becoming a monster much like those who’d left Andrew a broken, cobbled-together mess.

So he spent the evening up on the roof alone, and had ignored the flash of hurt in Neil’s pale blue eyes when he shook his head upon the quiet question of if he wanted company or not.

Neil remained subdued when it was time to return to the stadium with Kevin for practice that night, and didn’t push Andrew for an explanation or idle chat; he was so _damn good_ about boundaries, about respecting the times when Andrew wasn’t ‘in the mood’ (or unable) to talk and willing to wait until that changed.

He didn’t do anything but give Andrew a reassuring smile when they returned to the dorm and Andrew merely headed the bedroom to sleep.

Unfortunately, the nightmares were just as bad that night, which made Andrew jolt awake and then lie in bed listening to Neil and Aaron’s breathing while he assured himself that they were fine, that he hadn’t let them down (hadn’t let Drake _touch_ them). Morning found him aching with exhaustion and scraped raw from doubt, by all the awful ‘what might have beens’ in his head where Drake had gotten his hands on Aaron and Neil, where Andrew had failed to keep his promises to protect those who mattered to him the most.

It took so much to remain in bed, to not get up and fetch Kevin’s supply of alcohol or worse, peel back his armbands and press one of his knives to his forearm….

Yet he stayed there once again until the alarm went off _then_ got up, silent once again; Neil interceded when Aaron snarked about him being a grumpy bastard and prevented violence so early in the morning. Kevin gave him a worried frown and mumbled something about not affecting the game on Friday, which meant that Andrew didn’t spot the asshole during weight training (Jack stepped in for him so Kevin couldn’t lift as much as usual and was in a foul mood as a result, how sad).

Neil appeared worried, too, which was why Andrew skipped classes that day - including the Russian language one he shared with his friend. He took off in the Maserati and ignored all calls and texts as he stared across an empty field not too far from campus while he chain-smoked as he sat on the roof of his car until right before afternoon practice, the raw feeling still clinging to his bones as he pondered just how much he had to be snatched away and destroyed right then.

Aaron complained about him taking off with the car and Nicky scolded him for skipping lunch when he finally showed up for practice, while Kevin proclaimed that he better be in the mood to _do_ something for once. Neil was quiet, however, and merely stared after Andrew whenever he wasn’t busy out on court.

Andrew found himself both relieved and annoyed by that attention, even though he escaped it once again to go up to smoke on the roof alone that evening. He missed Neil’s presence beside him, missed seeing the slight smile on Neil’s attractive face and obvious desire in pale blue eyes, missed hearing eager ‘yeses’ and feeling gentle hands on his shoulders as he pulled the younger man close to be kissed.

He just didn’t know how to regain all of that while the nightmares weighed so heavily upon him, when the last thing he wanted was for the past to ruin what he had now. Those thoughts (the dreams) consumed him so much that he didn’t realize that for once Kevin finished changing out quickly from nighttime practice, which left Andrew and Neil alone in the locker room.

“Andrew.” 

Hearing Neil call out his name made Andrew snap to attention and nearly drop his shirt before he could pull it on; he noticed that Neil was already dressed and appeared uncertain about something, that he had shadows around his eyes and had taken to chewing his bottom lip.

Realizing that he had Andrew’s attention, Neil stood up straight and stopped fidgeting. “Ah… are you mad at me?” When Andrew blinked at the question, Neil let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, whatever I done, just tell me so I can fix it.”

Neil thought that he’d done something to upset Andrew. “No,” Andrew answered before Neil could say anything else, then pulled on his shirt. “It’s not… you didn’t do anything,” was all he said once he was dressed, then he went over to his friend and reached out his hand. “Yes?” he asked, needing that confirmation after the last few days, after realizing how much he’d hurt Neil with his distance.

“Yes,” Neil breathed out without any hesitation, as always an idiot about things, and smiled when Andrew reached out to clasp the back of his neck. Andrew could feel warm skin and muscles slowly relax beneath his touch, and for a moment he contemplated pulling Neil in for a kiss before he realized that wasn’t a good idea right then; instead, they merely stood there for almost a minute just gazing at each other before he shifted back and Neil sighed.

“Kevin’s waiting for us,” Neil said, all signs of apprehension gone as he grabbed his jacket from where it was draped over the bench, and smiled when Andrew huffed. “Do you… do you want company tonight?”

“No… not tonight,” Andrew admitted as they left the stadium; Neil’s smile slipped a little but he accepted it for what it was - ‘not now but soon’, aware that Andrew needed time to work through things and content now that he knew that Andrew wasn’t upset with him. Part of what Andrew appreciated about him was that he was able to give Andrew his space, yet be there when Andrew wanted (needed) him.

“Okay. Renee gave me a recipe for Mexican hot chocolate, maybe I’ll try making it while you’re up there,” Neil offered as he stared straight ahead.

Andrew thought about that, about clearing his head up on the roof (trying to lay a few demons to rest) then coming down to Neil waiting for him with something to drink before bed and reached out to grasp his friend’s right hand as they walked toward the Maserati.

*******


	15. Raven's Partner - Ichirou POV - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there were one or two requests for this - Ichirou pov. I think? Anyway, here you go (from Raven’s Partner ch19).
> 
> Warning - Ichirou, and Ichirou/Neil (just the relationship which is dubcon). It’s all Ichirou pov of the two sweatshirt scenes so thoughts and talking, nothing else.

*******

Ichirou had just finished a dinner meeting with several of his underlings to confirm that everything was proceeding smoothly and waited until he and Stuart were alone in the elevator leading to the garage (save for Davis and Yuya) to speak. “Camacho’s going to be a problem.”

“Yes, I gathered,” Stuart remarked in a dry tone, yet something appeared ‘off’ about him; his posture was a little too stiff and his lips drawn in a thin line. Ichiro had noticed that he’d been distracted by his phone a few times during dinner. “Should I take care of him now?”

“Yes,” Ichirou ordered. One had to admire the Hatfords and their ‘polite’ efficiency; Nathan Wesninski had gotten the job done (for the most part, except when it came to his own house), but he’d often been excessive and sloppy, which wasn’t something that Ichirou tolerated.  “Is there something I should be aware of?”

Stuart paused in pulling out his phone (most likely to start issuing orders on Camacho) to exchange a quick look with his underling, Davis Petch. “There was an incident tonight with Nathaniel.”

“Do tell,” Ichirou remarked as he tugged on the cuff of his left sleeve, certain that it couldn’t be too serious or else Stuart would be more concerned for his nephew. Still, he felt some annoyance in the delay of an update. “If it’s another incident at Evermore I will be mildly upset.” His uncle’s ‘retirement’ was about to come to an abrupt and painful end.

“No, he was hurt during a game.” When Ichirou stiffened upon hearing that, Stuart shook his head. “Nothing too bad according to Bren and the team’s nurse, just a sprained ankle, but some tosser seemed to target him and he didn’t handle being taken down very well. Apparently, he wasn’t feeling well on top of it and probably shouldn’t have been playing in the first place. Bren’s taking him back to Evermore.” Worry crept into Stuart’s smoke-roughened voice as he talked. “Stubborn little fool, just like… well, I figured you’d want to know.”

“Yes, I do.” Ichirou considered the news as they went to the car, with Stuart climbing into the back seat of the luxury sedan with him. “We’re heading to Evermore in the morning,” he decided. “We can stop there on the way to Chicago.”

To give him credit, Stuart didn’t argue or complain, he merely bowed his head and arranged for the plane to be ready earlier than expected while Yuya drove Ichirou home. Once there, Ichirou talked with the nanny to ensure that everything was fine with Masuro and stopped by the nursery to watch his son sleep for a minute or two, and saw Tamiko for a short while before bed. She was pleasant with him and they talked about his upcoming schedule as well as their son, but he’d had more engaging conversations earlier that evening with criminal underlings.

He thought about Nathaniel and his teasing smiles and artless comments as he laid down alone in his bed for a few hours of sleep.

The drive to the airport and flight to Charleston was spent handling the various emails and messages which had come through during the night, which made the couple of hours go by quickly. Ichirou felt that he finally had a grasp on his father’s business, had learned how the pieces fit together and forced the various heads of organizations who owed fealty to the family to both acknowledge him as well as adapt to his way of doing things with only one or two exceptions.

Those exceptions would accept or be replaced.

They arrived at Edgar Allan around eight in the morning, while the Ravens were busy with their morning practice. Hiroshi Noguchi left the team at work long enough to greet Ichirou and give a quick update on Nathaniel with a promise to talk more later, but Ichirou was there to see his lover and strode through the black and red halls to Nathaniel’s room with Stuart leading the way (he was beginning to see Nathaniel’s point about the ‘Nest’ needing a make-over).

Bren Morgan was standing guard outside of the room and gave him and Stuart a respective bow once he overcame the surprise of seeing them appear. “Ah, is everything all right?” he asked.

“We’re here to see Nathaniel,” Stuart told him. “He’s still resting, right?”

“Sleeping,” Morgan answered as he glanced back and forth between Stuart and Ichirou. “I can go in and wake him up, make him presentable and-“

“No, that’s not necessary,” Ichirou insisted as he stepped forward to open the door himself; for Nathaniel to still be in bed and not at practice, he had to be ill or was injured worse than suspected. Ichirou wanted to see his lover.

“Yuh- yes, my lord,” Morgan sputtered as the door opened, and for a moment Ichirou was taken aback at how utterly dark the room was with the lights off. Then Morgan reached over to turn on the overhead lights, which revealed an all black room (floor, walls, bedding, furniture) save for splashes of color from what looked to be quilts on the beds and a few small items scattered about on the desks and dressers.

There was also Nathaniel’s bright hair on the black pillow and his pale face as he lay unmoving on the bed, as beautiful and still as the porcelain dolls Ichirou’s mother used to collect.

Ichirou took in the bleak room for a moment before he went over to the bed and sank down on it, a smile tugging on it as he reached out to brush aside the sweat-damp hair from his lover’s forehead.

“They’ve got him on meds for the ankle and he’s been running a fever,” Morgan explained in a quiet voice, similar to what Hiroshi had said. “Poor kid’s exhausted.”

“I can see that.” Ichirou leaned down to brush his lips against Nathaniel’s forehead, which prompted a faint stir from his lover. “ _Nathaniel. So sleepy, are you_?” he asked in Japanese.

“Hmm.” That seemed to prod the young man awake as he shifted about on the bed, a faint frown forming on his lovely face for a moment before he opened his pale blue eyes which were fogged with drugs and blinked a couple of times as if to force them to focus. “I-ich’ro.” The name came out faint and raspy.

“Yes, Nathaniel.” Ichirou smiled and stroked his thumb along Nathaniel’s left cheek before he reached for one of the bottles of water on the nightstand. “ _Here, I’m told you should be drinking because of the fever_.” To make it easier for his lover to drink he went to help Nathaniel sit up and pushed down the quilts wrapped around him, then paused when he realized what Nathaniel was wearing, a caustic mix of jealousy and anger stirring inside of him. “ _I didn’t know you’d become a Fox, Nathaniel_.” The orange and white color of the sweatshirt was obvious without the huge pawprint on front, but the number ‘3’ on the upper left side and sleeves was especially unforgiving.

“Huh?” Nathaniel didn’t resist being pulled upright, and Ichirou felt a sharp stab of anger when he caught sight of ‘Minyard’ on the back of the shirt. “ _Fuh-fox_?”

“ _Yes, a Fox_.”. Only the fact that Ichirou could see the familiar necklace hanging down the front of Nathaniel’s chest and that his lover seemed genuinely confused at the moment kept him from ripping the offending garment off then and there, kept him from giving in to the acrid emotions. “ _When did you become a Fox_?” he asked as he removed the lid from the bottle and wrapped Nathaniel’s limp hands around it.

“ _I… no_.” A frown marred Nathaniel’s face and he made a quick, abortive shake of the head. “ _Not… Raven_ ,” he mumbled before Ichirou raised the bottle to his lips; he allowed Ichirou to move him about as if that precious doll, to drink when urged and then to swallow the pills which were also left on the nightstand.

Ichirou tried again once the water was gone – he set the bottle aside and gripped Nathaniel’s chin, felt some of the anger settle a little at how Nathaniel went still at the touch, as docile as always. “ _Why are you wearing a Fox sweatshirt, Nathaniel_?” His fingers tightened despite himself at the thought of _which_ Fox’s sweatshirt it was. Of how Minyard had tried once already to take his lover away.

Nathaniel winced but didn’t try to pull away or fight. “ _I… was… was cold_ ,” he said while he shivered, his eyes a fraction clearer as he stared up at Ichirou, his hands twisted in the quilt gathered in his lap.

“ _Is that all_?” Nathaniel hadn’t lied to him yet, but for some reason he seemed to gravitate to Minyard, to remaining in contact with the other young man. Ichirou didn’t like that, yet it seemed beyond petty to say ‘don’t talk to him’ if that’s all they did.

_If._

“ _Ah… bright_?” Nathaniel made an abortive gesture around the bleak room. “ _Not… tired of black_.”

That sounded logical after seeing the Nest in person, but Ichirou wanted to be certain. “ _Minyard gave it to you_?” he asked as he grabbed onto the shirt again.

“ _Yeah… a joke_.” Nathaniel sounded even more confused as he slumped back against the pillows, probably a mixture of exhaustion and the pills kicking in, but he didn’t look away from Ichirou. “ _Always… always tease him about… lousy team_.”

“ _I see_.” Ichirou didn’t think Nathaniel was lying to him, which meant that his lover most likely believed what he’d just said; if there was one thing Ichirou had noticed since Nathaniel had caught his eye, it was that the young man didn’t realize when he drew the notice of others. “Bren, find him something colorful to wear. Stuart, fetch me a damp towel,” he called out as he grabbed at the hem of the detested sweatshirt so he could remove it.

“Yes, my lord.” The two men hurried to comply while Ichirou threw the garment aside then stroked his fingers through Nathaniel’s hair while his lover shivered from the cold once more.

Once Stuart returned with a damp towel, Ichirou took to wiping Nathaniel clean of sweat. “ _Apparently, you’re pushing yourself too hard_ ,” Ichirou chided as he wiped away the sweat. “ _You need to speak up more, Nathaniel_.” He pushed down the spark of desire he felt at touching his lover’s toned body.

“ _I… don’t want to let you down, my lord_ ,” Nathaniel said in a quiet voice as he closed his eyes, probably as the fever and pills made him tired.

So loyal. “ _You have yet to do that_.” Ichirou set the towel aside then combed his fingers through Nathaniel’s bangs and pressed a kiss against his flushed forehead. “ _So stubborn_.” For a moment he allowed himself to look forward to their next time together, to Nathaniel rested and feeling better, to a few hours of conversation and smiles and pleasure.

“Ah, my lord? This is all I could find?” Morgan called out as he approached the bed holding one of the cashmere sweaters that Ichirou had bought his lover – he enjoyed seeing Nathaniel in the pale or bright colors, draped in the soft fabric he would soon run his hands over and remove. “He really doesn’t have much besides those Ravens sweatshirts unless you bought it for him.”

“Hmm? It’s fine.” Ichirou accepted it and then began to dress a sleepy Nathaniel in it.

“But it’ll get ruined,” his lover tried to complain, never one to take advantage of the gifts Ichirou gave him.

“Then you’ll get another one. They’re not priceless.” No, the clothes were easily replaced but lovers like Nathaniel weren’t so Ichirou combed his fingers through Nathaniel’s hair again and laid him back in bed once the sweater was on. “ _Rest now, I’ll be back in a few days_.” He leaned down for another kiss to tide him over until then. “ _It’s all right, Nathaniel, you’ll see_.”

Nathaniel gave him a tired smile as he stepped away, with Stuart quick to take his place while Ichirou motioned for Morgan to join him outside for a moment.

Once they were out in the hallway, the Hatford enforcer’s demeanor became formal. “Yes, my lord?”

“I want to know about Nathaniel and Minyard,” he told the man. “You’ve seen them together, you’ve heard them talk. Is it indeed a joke? Is Minyard a problem?”

Morgan shook his head. “I’ve never seen them get closer than arm’s reach of each other, and half the time Neil’s insulting the runt. I think… I think Neil likes talking to him because Minyard tells him he’s an idiot and calls him on his shit without getting on him like Jean and Mo- ah, Marley do.”

Ichirou thought about that for a moment, about how Nathaniel cared deeply for his partners yet did appear uncomfortable at being ‘spoiled’ and receiving compliments. He could imagine that his lover wouldn’t handle being fussed over well, either. “So they’re just friends.” He caught the way that Morgan hesitated. “ _Nathaniel_ considers them just friends.”

“Yes, my lord,” Morgan agreed right away.

“And Minyard? Does _he_ consider them just friends?” Somehow, Ichirou doubted it.

“He doesn’t push or I’d have snapped the runt’s neck,” Morgan admitted. “I wouldn’t let him upset or… or endanger Neil like that.” He glanced down the hall as he said that last part.

Nice to know the man knew how to do his job. “Yes,” was all Ichirou said, because he wouldn’t tolerate anyone attempting to take away someone who belonged to him like that, or for Nathaniel to defy him.

Nathaniel was _his_ , had given himself to him.

“I’m going to talk to Hiroshi,” Ichirou informed Stuart as soon as the man joined them, and went to find the coach, unwilling to wait any longer. Hiroshi handed over the rest of practice to Nakamura and then led them to his office, where they talked about Nathaniel and his behavior the last couple of weeks.

As Stuart had said, he was a stubborn fool indeed, but that was part of what attracted Ichirou to Nathaniel – his fire, his determination, his willingness to do whatever was necessary to protect his own.

Once it was agreed that Nathaniel would be under better supervision from then on, Ichirou placed an order for some items at the Saks Fifth Avenue in Columbus, which one of Stuart’s people could go pick up.

Something to add a little color in Nathaniel’s life. Something that wasn’t orange and white.

Ichirou had to leave for the meeting in Chicago and stopped by Nathaniel’s room before he did, but his lover was sleeping again. That time he left Nathaniel alone, save for a brief kiss on the forehead, and departed the Nest after Morgan handed over the damn sweatshirt.

Ichirou spent a couple of days in Chicago handling some of the new alliances he’d made in the past year, though Hiroshi and Morgan kept him up to date on Nathaniel’s condition until his lover called him on Monday for a brief call. Nathaniel still sounded tired but was clear-headed since the fever finally broke, and complained a little about being unable to practice.

He thanked Ichirou for the new clothes and even managed a shy joke once again about redecorating the Nest, and spent the next several minutes proposing even more ridiculous color schemes until Ichirou laughed and told his lover to save his energy and get some rest.

Ichirou looked forward to returning to Edgar Allan, to enjoying some proper time with Nathaniel, and resolved to take care of an irritant.

While Stuart handled some business in Chicago, he went back to New York City by way of South Carolina. Unimpressed with the airport and the state in general, he had things lined up so the layover allowed a little time to resolve something and was sitting in a limousine with Yuya in the front when Jun arrived with Andrew Minyard.

The young man sat there in the opposite seat dressed in black clothes and an impassive expression on his face while he twisted his wrists in a manner which reminded Ichirou of people who wore knives on their forearms. Ichirou was beginning to see Nathaniel’s fascination with the Fox and wasn’t pleased.

“Mr. Minyard,” he said, which didn’t provoke any reaction. They continued to stare at each other in silence, which prompted him to give a slight incline of his head. “No questions?” Oh yes, he could see why Nathaniel found Minyard interesting, which didn’t help his temper.

“Figured you’d get to things soon enough,” Minyard finally said, his voice deep and lacking any inflection or respect.

“True.” Ichirou gave him a cold smile. “There’s a matter that’s been left unattended for too long and I feel it’s time to amend that oversight - Kevin Day.” That was partly true – the Day matter had dragged on long enough and needed resolved before the striker attempted to sign a pro contract without taking into consideration owed dues.

“What about him?” Ah, that seemed to draw a reaction out of the impassive bastard; it seemed the rumors of Minyard being the protective type were correct. "He’s not _property_ , last I checked.”

Did someone have an issue with ‘property’? “Not quite, but he is an investment. Time, money and effort was put into him being the success he is now, all of that at my family’s expense.“

"He was nearly ruined by your family, if I remember correctly. Your brother, to be exact.”

Ichirou refused to take offense over anything a spoiled child had done, especially when he’d stepped in to put a stop to Riko’s destructive ways. “Which is why he was allowed to leave Edgar Allan and seek out his father. It doesn’t excuse the fact that there are certain expectations of him. If he wants to continue to chart his own future, he must pay dues owed to those who made that future possible.”

“So why talk to me and not Day?” So far, the jab about property aside, Minyard seemed willing to keep the conversation focused on Day.

“Because it’s my understanding that one must go through you to get to him, correct? Aren’t you his protector?” The question was, did Minyard consider himself Nathaniel’s protector as well? Even after Nathaniel had turned him down months ago? Was someone that much of a fool?

“Something like that,” Minyard drawled as darkness shifted in his light brown eyes. “What’s the deal? Is he to play for the Barons, too? That’s not much of him charting his own future though, is it?”

It appeared that Nathaniel and Minyard talked about more than Day and insults. “Nathaniel told you about that, did he?”

“We talk a little.” Ah, now someone lost a bit of their hard edge – were they worried for Nathaniel? "Something like that isn’t difficult to figure out, though, considering you own the team and him.”

“Yes, I do.” It was time to drive a point home, Ichirou decided as he reached for the bag he’d brought for him and shoved it toward the bastard. “I _do_ own him, so kind of you to acknowledge that, though I believe you tend to forget that from time to time.”

Minyard was obviously wary of the bag and its contents judging from his sudden stiffness and how he refused to look away from Ichirou at first, at least until he reached in and felt its contents. There was a quick flash of emotion when he recognized the shirt, but it was gone too fast and his face once more a blank mask when he looked back at Ichirou. “Not your style?”

“Not Nathaniel’s style,” Ichirou clarified. “Miss Wilds will be informed about the policy of no gifts for the Ravens players, especially from rival teams, during her official orientation.” Further investigation had revealed that she’d been the one to bring the shirt in, but he’d decided not to hold it against her – _this_ time.

“For all Ravens, or just your personal one?” Minyard dared to ask as he set the bag aside.

“All Ravens, but especially the ones who belong to me.” Ichirou let him know, wanting there to be no illusions or confusion on the matter, not when it came to Nathaniel. “I don’t think you understand just how much that’s really true, Minyard. I own Nathaniel’s loyalty, his future, his very being, and those things will never change.” He smiled as Minyard went still, as that darkness returned but the bastard had no choice but sit there and listen to Ichirou say such things. “He’s a Wesninski and a Hatford, and loyalty is a trait both share.” He laughed a little as he thought about Nathan Wesninski. “Or shared.”

“And you?” Minyard didn’t seem to lack for courage, just sense. “Seems to me only one of them serve you now.”

“Because I know the importance of value, which brings us back to Day,” Ichirou reminded the young man – reminded Minyard of what was at stake. Nathaniel was Ichirou’s and Minyard had so many things at risk if he _ever_ forgot that for a moment. “His freedom for eighty percent of all future salary and endorsements.”

For a moment Ichirou thought that Minyard would be foolish enough to try something even though it would be his death, then he settled back a little in the seat. “Seventy percent, and you return thirty percent of the money he’s already made while a Raven,” he argued. “Though the deal’s only good if Kevin accepts it since I’m not his agent.”

Ichirou almost scoffed at the counter-offer, more for the audacity of it than anything. “You think to barter with me for your friend’s life?”

“He’s not property.”

They stared at each other as things grew quiet again, until Ichirou nodded. “Day has one day to decide,” Ichirou declared while he reached into his suit’s coat to pull out a phone; it wasn’t too bad of a deal, considering that Day wasn’t property and it would be pure profit for the family.

“So nice that you allow someone to have a bit of free will,” Minyard said with a hint of sarcasm.

Ichirou paused in calling Masato to let him know about the arrangement to give Minyard a flat look for a moment or two then smiled when he realized that the man’s bitterness was showing. “Is that a reference to Nathaniel? Oh Minyard, do you think I forced anything on him?” Did someone think that Nathaniel needed saved? When Nathaniel had offered himself up in the first place? “Yes, he was handed over by his own father, but that was to Tetsuji. I gave him a chance to reconsider what he was about to do, but he was the one to offer himself up in the end. Like I said, loyal… and mine.” No, Nathaniel was right where he’d always belonged – he was the son of murderer, had known no other life than that of the underworld, really.

Did Minyard think he could _save_ Nathaniel and give him a _normal_ life?

No wonder Nathaniel found him so fascinating… and of course Nathaniel had turned the fool down.

Ichirou dismissed Minyard with a wave of his hand when Masato asked him if everything was all right and began updating his assistant on the new arrangement with Day, certain that Tetsuji’s former protégé would take it (Day knew enough to do it). Minyard stared after him for a couple of seconds before leaving the car, taking the bag with him.

That should have driven the point home to Minyard that Nathaniel was out of his reach, but if not… well, Ichirou had tried talking. He realized that Nathaniel would be upset if something happened to his ‘friend’, but Nathaniel had also been raised in a world where bad things happened to people all of the time and no deal had been made in regards to Andrew Minyard, had there? Ichirou would argue that he’d tried talking first and placate his lover as best possible.

Nathaniel would forgive him eventually. A nice trip for Patel and a few other Ravens, a special contract for Moreau and Nathaniel would come around. While Ichirou’s lover couldn’t be spoiled directly, he had his weak spots.

Still, that was only if Minyard proved difficult; Ichirou would rather not upset Nathaniel unduly.

Done with Minyard and Day for the time being, Ichirou focused on returning to New York City for a couple of days and then back to Charleston.

*******


	16. Andreil - secret santa/Hang a Shining Star - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this seems a little similar to the other secret santa prompt, but this is over a year old and was for the AFTG holiday exchange in 2017? I think? Which it seems was only posted on tumblr. It was for the prompt '“I got u in an office secret santa and i no Nothing about u so now i have to get to know u so i can buy u a gift”.

*******

Andrew stared at the slip of paper which Renee had just handed him from the company’s annual ‘secret Santa’ exchange. “Not only don’t I care, but I don’t know who-“

“Ah,” she chided him before he could rattle off Josten’s name. “We’re not supposed to reveal who we have until the party next Friday.”

He gave her a flat look as he crumpled the slip of paper. “This is ridiculous. Why do we even bother?”

“Because it’s a nice tradition?” she tried before she sighed and went for the throat. “Because we spend half the day eating all the food Wymack buys for us and whatever anyone brings in while we exchange the gifts, so that means you don’t have to work for four hours while stuffing yourself with a lot of desserts.”

Renee knew him rather well, dammit. “You better bring your double chocolate cheesecake,” he warned as he barely resisted the urge to throw the slip of paper back in her smirking face.

“Of course! And lots of fudge, too.” She smiled at him, all too aware of his weak points after working together for the last few years. “I might even try this eggnog cake recipe, if I have the time.”

Sweets and alcohol, how could he resist. “Find the time if you expect me to buy something for this person,” he demanded before stalking away, done dealing with people for the day.

He should be used to the damn gift exchange after working for Fleet Foxes the last five years, it was just that he ‘somehow’ usually got Renee or Aaron or Nicky, whom he didn’t mind to buy something small for (the limit was twenty dollars). One year he got Kevin, which had been almost amusing to find the most historically incorrect DVD series he could find to gift the history fanatic, and then walk away whenever Kevin had ranted about the show’s many, _many_ inaccuracies (or even _better_ , to listen to his coworkers complain about being trapped in the breakroom during one of Kevin’s rants).

Except that year? He’d gotten stuck with one Neil Josten, which he remembered setting up access for the guy after running the basic background check (nothing out of the ordinary… in fact, almost suspiciously nothing at all in the guy’s background). No, the only thing that had stood out about one Neil Josten, hired to work on translating the company’s websites into a few different languages and assist in customer service in said languages was that he was only a couple of inches taller than Andrew’s five feet. That and the faded scars on his too-attractive face.

Andrew had never imagined that he’d one day be holding down a nine-to-five job… but he supposed that there was an exception somewhere for him to be working for a former guidance counselor who took on all the hard luck cases back in his old high school whom he’d fought for to get various scholarships to universities, only to quit his job upon finding out that he had a son of his own and go on to form a company which put together and sold sports equipment to children with special needs. David Wymack just didn’t know when to give up… but Andrew guessed that was in part why he held any amount of respect for the man, why Wymack had managed to not be driven away by a certain messed-up kid with more than enough anger issues after bouncing around various (abusive) foster homes before his ‘lovely’ mother had decided to take him back in.

All that really mattered in the end was that Wymack had hired him to put that criminal justice degree to good use on background checks to make sure that the employees he hired were on the up and up and that the various charities and organizations weren’t trying to pull a fast one on the company, and that his twin brother Aaron had a stable job while he worked on his pre-med degree, down in the free clinic which the company offered for the families which often couldn’t afford healthcare, let alone the fancy wheelchairs and bikes and other pieces of equipment that the Fleet Foxes (or FF, as most of the employees referred to the company), gave out to the poor kids in order to make their lives better.

Which was why he suffered through the stupid holiday parties and whatever else do-gooders like Renee organized, though the free food and generous plates of desserts always helped. That almost all of the employees had learned to leave him alone by then, with the exceptions of Bee and Renee and Wymack.

Except that now he had to figure out a gift for one Neil Josten, dammit. Part of Andrew was tempted to just throw together a bag of socks and a Starbucks gift card… but then he remembered a pair of icy blue eyes and auburn curls and high cheekbones and….

DAMMIT.

He blamed it all on the fact that his longstanding fuck-buddy, Roland, had found a boyfriend in the last few months, which meant that Andrew didn’t have a convenient means of release other than his own right hand. Which meant instead of creamy dark brown skin and honey colored eyes, lately he’d been imaging pale gold skin and fire-dipped curls and-

He needed to stop thinking about Neil Josten.

Except _now_ he needed to get a damn present for the gorgeous enigma, it seemed.

He spent three days trying to figure out the quiet young man who came in early in the morning (too early for Andrew’s tastes), didn’t seem to talk much to the other employees and remained in his own little office before leaving hours before Andrew (who arrived well after 9am). Josten dressed as if he raided Goodwill for clothes, his outfits hanging from his slim frame.

Still, knowing that the redhead was an early riser and a loner wasn’t really much of anything, so Andrew braced himself for the worst and turned to his cousin Nicky, who also worked for Wymack in the marketing department, along with Aaron.

“Eh, Neil?” Nicky squealed during their shared ‘family’ coffee break on Thursday. “The cutie? The cutie with the gorgeous eyes and the tight ass?”

“The linguistic guy,” Andrew stressed as he gave his cousin a flat look. “Say anything else and you better have signed up for the high level insurance premium.”

Nicky laughed at that until he finally seemed to figure out that Andrew _wasn’t_ kidding. “Okay, _okay_!” He held his hands up for a few seconds while smiling nervously. “Neil Josten, yeah!”

“The antisocial asshole,” Aaron murmured into his huge mug of coffee. “Wouldn’t take off his shirt while Katelyn did his physical.”

Andrew turned his flat look on his brother, unwilling to hear about the ‘girlfriend’ at the moment. “I like him better all of a sudden.”

Aaron gave him the finger for that comment while Nicky laughed again, just a nervous. “ _Neil,_ okay? He actually gets along with Matt, but I think it’s more because Matt doesn’t give him much of a choice,” Nicky confessed. “Matt seemed to latch on to him as someone who needed a buddy, and Neil will go out to lunch with him once or twice a week.” The more he spoke, the more Nicky calmed down and seemed interested in the topic. “He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but he seems to like tea and will eat a lot of different stuff for lunch, according to Matt, but no sweets. He never touches any of the donuts that anyone brings in or the birthday treats.”

In other words, the guy was a freak. “So bad taste in food, friends and clothes,” Andrew murmured as he put together a mental image of the new guy based on what Nicky had just said.

“You noticed, too?” Nicky perked up on that as he went to refill his mug with some more coffee. “He really needs some new clothes, he’s too hot to wear stuff that’s like, ten years old. At least? I mean, it’s all clean and everything, but he looks like he was dressed by his grandfather or something.”

“It’s work, not Eden’s,” Aaron said as he rolled his eyes as he mentioned the club where Roland bartended. “Who cares?”

“How are we related?” Nicky gasped. “Hot guys should always look hot!”

Andrew pushed away from the counter he’d been leaning against before the conversation degraded any further. “Anything else?” Checking his emails was more interesting than listing to Nicky’s inane prattle.

“Uhm… oh, yeah! Neil has a thing for cats,” Nicky offered up with a grin. “I overheard him say something about having to go out to buy cat food one day. Did that help?” He gave Andrew a hopeful smile, which Andrew ignored as he left the breakroom.

So, tea, something to do with cats, maybe a nice sweater or something – now Andrew had an idea of what to get the new guy. Yet instead of logging on to Amazon and finding something under the price limit, he spent the next few days lingering in the breakroom and outside of his office as much as possible, suffering Nicky and Renee and the others just so he could catch a glimpse of one Neil Josten.

The weather had taken a ‘cold’ turn for the end of the year (as much as it ever did in South Carolina), which meant that Josten showed up in overlarge sweatshirts and sweaters, all of them appearing old and faded and a few washes away from fraying – and none of them having anything to do with the holiday (that was one thing which Andrew approved of, considering how much grief he got over wearing black all through December). There was indeed traces of black and grey cat hair on his blue sweatshirt the one day, confirming that he had at least one cat, and Andrew watched him turn down a slice of Renee’s rather good coffee cake in the breakroom on Monday while he made himself a cup of what looked to be some sort of black tea. He was polite but distance, and seemed to miss her question about what he’d done over the weekend before he excused himself.

He was also quick on his feet, and quiet, too.

Andrew helped himself to an extra-large slice of the coffee cake since Josten hadn’t taken any. “Someone’s shy.”

Renee shrugged as she made herself some herbal tea. “He doesn’t like to be put on the spot, but if Matt’s around, he’ll open up a little. You should see the picture of his two cats, they’re adorable. He rescued them from a shelter.” She smiled at Andrew, the expression warm and inviting, which he knew better than to trust after digging into her background. “Said that it’s nice to have something to come home to each night.”

In other words, Josten was single, not that Andrew _cared_ or anything. “I imagine the furballs are about as useful as Nicky,” Andrew drawled before he took a big bite of the slice of cake, his gaze locked with Renee’s.

“Maybe,” Renee answered with that damn knowing smile on her face. “You should talk to him at the party on Friday, I think you two have a lot in common.”

He didn’t answer that, he just ate the cake in steady bites before he topped off his mug with more coffee, sugar and milk and then left the room.

If he happened to eat lunch at the same Chinese place where Boyd took Josten on Tuesday? Pure coincidence. He sat at a table by himself and watched Boyd urge Josten to eat some more while the redhead poked at his noodle dish and nodded along with whatever his gregarious coworker said (the kids loved Boyd, who worked events with Wilds and Renee where they gave out the various pieces of equipment and made sure it met the kids’ needs and everything). Andrew noticed how Josten seemed to keep his head down, his hair falling onto his face and eyes, as if to avoid drawing attention to himself.

Yet he still drew looks, and not just because of the faded slashes on his left cheek and the burn on his right (which Andrew hadn’t found anything about, despite all of his digging), not when they failed to detract from the fact that he still was a very attractive young man.

… Andrew really needed to stop thinking things like that.

Still, he finally had an idea of what to get the guy (and if it went over the price limit a bit, who the hell cared?), and placed the order along with some more thick socks for himself and a new mug which read ‘I don’t like MORNING PEOPLE. Or mornings. Or people.’

The next couple of days he had to put up with Nicky babbling about the present he got for his secret Santa and Aaron whining about if his present for the annoying girlthing would be good enough (Andrew didn’t give a shit about either, but most especially the latter), and spent most of his time at work playing solitaire since there was so little to do now that the holiday rush was over. Friday finally came, and all he cared about was the one conference room on the second floor filled with food and the fact that they had the next week off, per Wymack’s ridiculously generous holiday package (something about spending time with loved ones and family – Andrew planned to be barricaded in his room as much as possible to avoid seeing Nicky and Aaron).

Most of the staff had shown up in horrendous holiday sweaters, Nicky included, which made Andrew want to grab some food and retreat back into his small office until it was time to leave for the day, but Wymack insisted on everyone spending some time together, the bastard. The old man wore a bright red and green sweater with the words ‘Oh Snap’ on the front and the image of a broken gingerman cookie, of all things, with Abby standing next to him with a sloth wearing a Santa’s hat on hers.

The worst part of it all? No real alcohol at the damn event. At least Renee had made the eggnog cake, so Andrew headed straight for it and cut himself a huge slice.

“I want to thank you all for another great year here at Fleet Foxes, for all the kids we made happy and the wishes we’ve fulfilled,” Wymack said as he smiled at everyone gathered in the conference room. “I couldn’t have done it without your hard work, and I look forward to another successful year.”

People cheered and clapped to that bit of trite nonsense, while Kevin glared at Andrew for eating cake through it all. Wilds was quick to take over and start calling out names so people could come and collect their gifts while everyone helped themselves to the food (Andrew remained by the cake since Renee had outdone herself on it), and Josten was one of the first few who went up to fetch his.

Andrew munched on the cake while Josten accepted the large bag and would have stepped away with it, except that Wilds made him show everyone what was inside. Clearly nervous with all of the attention, Josten pulled out the dark blue hooded sweatshirt with the saying ‘Carry On and Keep Ignoring Me’ across the front, which made him smile as he read it.

“That’s really cute,” Wilds said as she gave him a pat on the back. “You’ll look great in it, too!”

“Yes, something new for once, and not three sizes too large,” Reynolds called out from where she stood next to Renee.

Andrew had gotten it a little large, but not so much that it would swamp Josten’s lean runner’s figure. Josten gave Reynolds a bland look for her remark, but he took care to fold the gift before he put it back in the bag, and after reading the tag attached to it, he glanced around the room and gave Andrew a shy smile.

A few minutes later it was Andrew’s turn, and Wilds had a huge grin on her face when she handed him a small gift bag. Figuring that maybe Reynolds had gotten him again and it was another lump of coal inside, he opened it to find what was a small box of gourmet truffles from the one chocolate store downtown which he tended to patronize on a regular basis.

The only thing more surprising about the contents was the name on the bag’s tag, which informed him that his secret Santa for the year was one Neil Josten.

He walked away while Wilds was still talking about something, over to where Josten and Abby seemed to be discussing whatever dish Bee had brought to the potluck. Abby smiled at him as he drew near and nodded in greeting. “Have you tried Betsy’s new casserole yet? It’s pretty good.”

Andrew glanced at what looked to be some sort of cheesy potatoes and shook his head. “Not yet.” He held up the small gift bag while he gazed at Neil Josten. “Who told you?”

Neil set aside the small plate of food he held in his left hand and smiled, the expression slight but evident with that full bottom lip of his. “Well, everyone here talks about how much you like sweets, so a few people told me about that one shop.” The smile faded as he nodded over to Renee, who had her right arm wrapped around Reynolds. “Renee gave me ideas about some flavors in particular, though.”

Andrew had to wonder just how much ‘chance’ had to play in the two of them ending up as each other’s secret Santa that year. “You probably spent too much,” he argued since he knew that those truffles weren’t cheap.

“And you didn’t?” Neil nodded to the large bag near his feet. “That’s a nice sweatshirt. Thank you.”

Abby glanced at the two of them before murmuring something and walking away. Meanwhile, Andrew gave the new guy a flat look and clicked his tongue. “I was doing everyone here a favor. It’s time you showed up in something decent for once.”

“Ah, well… I guess I still appreciate it.” Neil’s expression was a little wistful as he swiped his right hand down the front of his worn grey sweatshirt.

“I know Wymack pays a decent salary, so why don’t you buy some new ones?” Andrew knew more than that, actually, considering the access he had.

Neil shrugged. “Old habit, I guess.” His pale blue eyes narrowed as he looked over Andrew. “Why do you always wear black?”

“Old habit, I guess,” Andrew shot back, and told himself that he didn’t feel anything when Josten’s smile strengthened at the retort.

“Hmm… so… how about this? It’s a new year, so if I show up in something new, you show up in something not black?” Neil offered with a slight tilt of his head. “A resolution for us both?”

Andrew considered that for a moment, about seeing Neil in something other than the baggy clothes he always seemed to wear. “It has to be something other than what I got you today.” Neil hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement. “And I get to pick it out.”

Those blue eyes went wide and for a moment Andrew thought Neil would say ‘no’… but Neil looked him up and down again before he began to fuss with the hem of his grey shirt. “Uhm, okay? I guess you’ll just bring it to work and-“

“We’ll go shopping together.” Andrew told himself that it would get him out of the house and away from his brother and cousin and their ‘respective others’, not that he was trying to spend time with a cute coworker and… it was nothing. _Nothing_.

Just like it meant nothing when Neil peered at him through those overlong bangs with his big blue eyes then stuttered out a yes. They exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet up before New Year’s Eve, then Andrew watched Neil all but stumble over to Matt, who took to grinning while the much shorter young man talked while motioning about with his hands.

Renee waltzed all over a couple of minutes later with a large plate of her double chocolate cheesecake and a pleased smile on her face. “I told you that you had a lot in common.”

“I’m just doing everyone a favor and preventing an eyesore at the office.” Andrew was determined to stick with that story.

“I’m sure everyone will greatly appreciate it, whatever it is you’re doing,” Renee agreed as he snatched away the dessert. “That blue will go very well with his eyes.”

“It was the only color available,” Andrew said. Well, the only _acceptable_ color available.

“Hmm.” He hadn’t thought it possible, but her smile grew even brighter. “Merry Christmas, Andrew. I wish you all the peace and happiness possible for the new year, which you truly deserve.”

“Yeah, well, it’s too late to wish you anything good, Reynolds already has her claws sunk in you,” he told her, which made her laugh as she walked away.

Besides, Andrew didn’t believe in things like nice wishes or holiday spirit or ‘goodwill to mankind’, not after everything that had happened to him as a child. He was responsible for his own happiness and future from now on, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t wait to see what role a certain quiet, mysterious redhead played in that future, though, right?

*******


	17. Rufus/Reno - red string of fate - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little different from AFTG for once! FF7, ah, an older fandom... prompt for "I've tried to cut the string". Warning here would be for Reno's mouth.

*****

Rufus never gave much thought to the red string wrapped around his left wrist which stretched out a few inches into the air and then vanished. He knew it would lead to his soulmate, the person fated to be his ‘other half’, the person meant to be by his side for the rest of his life if he was lucky enough to find them. He assumed they would be a woman, would be someone from an upstanding family much like his mother had been… because he was a Shinra and that’s how things were done. Fate wouldn’t get in his way and provide anything else, would dare to interfere with his plans, would it? He had enough headaches dealing with his father and bending _that_ situation to his liking, after all.

So he ignored the string as inconsequential, being much too busy with betrayal and AVALANCHE and everything else, and took the occasional lover here and there when needs must (a classmate or two who understood the urge for relief, a few daughters of business associates connected to SHINRA to appease his father) and left it at that. Relationships were complications he didn’t need or want when he was focused on overthrowing his father, on taking control of SHINRA and effectively the world.

He came so _close_ to achieving that with AVALANCHE, only for it to come crashing down around him at Old Corel. If it wasn’t bad enough to have everything he’d worked so hard on be ruined by the ‘Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department’, by Veld’s little groups of rejects and psychos who worked in the shadows and did SHINRA’s clean-up work (and worse)… at some point during the whole mess, the red string had grown brighter and thicker on his wrist, had stretched outward to his soulmate at last.

Toward one of the Turks, as Veld’s groups of rejects were called, in particular.

The Turks, now led by Tseng, a quiet and taciturn Wutian young man, were unable to trade Rufus for the freedom of Veld and the old man’s daughter, as the Turks had planned, but with a bit of careful maneuvering, Rufus had prevented the group from being executed for attempting to ransom him in exchange for their leader with a bit of clever showmanship. It meant the Turks once more reporting to Heidegger and he was sent into ‘exile’ to Junon under house arrest… but he was alive to plot again and had gained the loyalty of Turks, which could work for him in the end.

There was only the matter of that damn red string.

He was set up in a palatial penthouse in Junon, one with a breathtaking view of the city and around the clock guards to ensure he didn’t go anywhere unsupervised. His father was keeping a very close eye on him and making it clear that he wasn’t trusted, that he was being kept alive on sufferance alone.

Rufus would make him regret that small mercy and considered the situation a mere setback.

He’d take a little time to regroup, to consider his reduced resources, the altered battleground and then come up with a new plan. He’d learn from his failure and do a better job next time, it was as simple as that. Learn from one’s mistakes and move on.

But first, that damn red string – that was a potential weakness he hadn’t anticipated and he refused to let it be used against him.

It wasn’t long after he’d settled into Junon when he sat in the room he’d established as an office, complete with a large desk where he worked during the day on the few things his father ‘trusted’ to him (boring assignments and tasks his father couldn’t be bothered with, for the most part, but which gave Rufus valuable insight on what was happening with the company), busy sawing at the string with what was supposed to be one of the sharpest blades on the market.

“It’s not gonna ta work, ya know. I’ve tried. Ya can’t cut the damn string.”

Rufus jerked at the sound of that sardonic voice and nearly cut himself as he spun the chair around to find a lanky figure leaning against the doorway of his office, a lanky figured dressed in wrinkled black slacks and an open black jacket, a white dress shirt left with the top three buttons undone beneath. The Turk had brilliant red hair in a spiky cut, several tendrils falling onto his pale face and a long tail trailing down his back, an almost pixyish face with two red slashes along his sharp cheekbones and brilliant aquamarine eyes.

He was Reno of the Turks, infamous for his insubordination, his violent, explosive nature and skill in fighting. Rumor had it that he might have been considered for SOLDIER but was too unstable for the program, too much of a risk and so he’d been shuffled over to the Turks where even Veld (and now Tseng) struggled to keep the gutter-bred, below-Plate maniac under control.

He was also Rufus’ soulmate, the string on Rufus’ wrist flowing bright across the room to Reno’s own, disappearing beneath the leather cuff of the baton he almost always wore when working.

It was then that the words previously spoken sunk in, causing Rufus to stand up, the knife carefully set aside and his hands braced on the desk, to glare at the bastard. “What do you mean, you tried to cut it?”

A mocking grin curled Reno’s lips as he folded his arms over his chest. “Just that, I tried ta get rid of the damn thing and nothing works.” He scoffed as his fingers gave the string a slight tug. “Even tried blowin’ it up. Rude stopped me from using the really strong stuff, though.”

Rufus stared at him in confusion. “ _You_ tried breaking it?” He’d been expecting Reno, a below-Plater, to show up to take advantage of the… ‘situation’ binding them together ever since he realized that he was stuck with the Turk.

Reno’s brilliant eyes narrowed as his lips curled into a sneer. “Yeah, _I_ did. What, ya _think_ I wanna be tied to a fucker like _you_? Someone who’ll stab anyone in the back ta get what he wants?” He scoffed again. “Tseng says we gotta work with ya, we work with ya. He says we gotta keep ya alive, we keep ya alive.” For some reason, Rufus felt a dark, angry emotion deep in his stomach over the way that Reno mentioned the new Head of the Turk’s name, the way his voice held a scrap of respect. “But that’s it, ya stay the fuck away from me. I’m used ta life bein’ an utter bitch so this is just,” Reno paused to laugh, the sound pure bitter amusement. “Yeah, stay the _fuck_ away, ya spoiled little shit.” He gave Rufus a rude gesture and then slipped away into the shadows of the hallway without making any sound.

He left without giving Rufus a chance to say anything, to argue that _he_ refused to be stuck with such an ill-bred, uneducated, uncouth _bastard_ (in every sense – Reno probably couldn’t narrow his father down to a possible twenty men if given a chance).

Except… except Rufus despised being told he couldn’t have something. He detested being given ultimatums, in being told something was out of his reach. And Reno… yes, he was a gutter-rat, but he was also very attractive, intelligent, and resourceful. He’d thrived with the Turks and climbed up to their second in command. He had the gall to talk back to a Shinra (even a disgraced one, but from what Rufus had heard, that didn’t hold the bastard back at all).

He contemplated the red string around his wrist as he sat back down in his chair and wondered if Fate had made a mistake after all.

He always did thrive best when given a challenge.


	18. Andreil - red string - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time it's Neil and Andrew for ❛❛ I’ve tried. You can’t cut the string. I’ve tried, trust me, I’ve tried. ❜❜
> 
> Sorta canon compliant.

Neil knew he was in trouble when Wymack showed up to recruit him in Millport, not just because of the risk of his father finally tracking him down, not because of him failing to listen to his mother, not just because of _Kevin Day_.

No, it was because he’d finally come across his _soulmate_ , the person connected to the other end of the terrible red string who was supposedly the other part of his soul. The same red string only he (and possibly) that soulmate could see, the string which he’d cursed for years, ever since it had appeared in his vision.

He wasn’t supposed to _need_ anyone (other than his mother), to have anything ‘tying’ him down, any liabilities. He had a figurative target on his back and a price of five million dollars (at least) on his head, a death warrant long overdue signed into existence eight years ago which grew closer and closer each day to being collected. The only thing he could give his ‘other half’ was a painful death if they met and became involved, so best that they remained far away from each other.

So of course their paths finally did cross, and it turned out his soulmate was Andrew Joseph Minyard, the Palmetto State Foxes’ goalkeeper, number three, someone just as fucked up as Neil (Nathaniel Wesninski) Josten, if the rumors were right.

Neil should have run, should have turned down Wymack… but it was too late, judging from the way that Minyard’s drug-hazed hazel eyes went from his own chest to Neil’s and that manic smile slipped a little, from the way he ‘tugged’ on the string before climbing into the truck with the coach and Day. He was already suspicious of Neil, and Neil turning down both a scholarship _and_ a chance to be with his soulmate? He was already trying not to draw unwanted attention to himself, and a chance to play Exy at a collegiate level was just too much to resist.

(Andrew had nothing to do with it.)

He wasn’t going to do anything to encourage a relationship between them, not when he’d just be leaving in a few months, and it was clear that Minyard felt the same when he was there to pick up Neil from the airport. He raised an eyebrow at Neil only arriving with his duffel bag and little was said until they parked outside of Coach Wymack’s apartment. Minyard killed the engine of his fancy car and made a show of slipping a knife from one of the black bands around his forearm, which caused Neil to still, eyes intent on the weapon and body ready to flee from the vehicle.

Minyard ‘picked’ at the red thread which stretched between them and made to saw at it with the knife, working at it for several seconds with that damn manic grin on his face as he stared at Neil, until Neil relaxed a minute amount and huffed. “It’s not going to work, you know. I’ve tried. You can’t cut the string. I’ve tried, trust me, _I’ve tried_ ,” he admitted even as he shifted a little closer to the door to put more space between them.

“Oh, have you now?” Minyard asked in a sing-song tone of voice.

“ _Yes_.” Neil jerked his right hand through his hair as he thought about those times, about his mother looming over him as he made the attempts, displeasure evident on her face after each failure even though she must have known that it wouldn’t work. “Knives or fire, nothing worked. You can’t sever the damn thing that way.” The only sure way seemed to be for your soulmate to die or to avoid them for your entire life – and of course Neil just wasn’t that lucky.

Minyard gasped as he finally gave up on the attempt. “Oh, am I not _wanted_?” He affected a hurt expression while his hazel eyes remained blank, an odd contrast which made Neil wonder if someone was putting on a show for him – and why.

“ _You_ were the one trying to cut it just now,” Neil pointed out, eyes intent on the blade until it was put away.

“So I was.” Minyard’s smile was just as sharp as his now hidden knife, and vanished within a moment. “How nice, it appears we’re both unhappy with this… revelation. Now then, no disgusting ‘I’ve found my other half’ announcements, no expectations that this has any impact on anything between us, that it means _anything_ , yes?”

Neil swallowed as he wondered how much longer until he could get out of the damn car. “It just means I feel sorry for your poor ‘other half’, that’s all.”

“Oh, what a smart mouth there. It seems the rabbit might have some teeth after all.” Minyard’s face went as blank as his eyes as he finally opened the driver’s side door, a sign that Neil could get out, too.

Neil was right about that ‘feeling sorry’ comment, since the next half an hour or so was a long string of threats and promises to break him, to make him come to ‘heel’ in one way or another, which made him wonder just how much the universe hated him to pair him with such an utter bastard.

It was a sentiment he pondered often as he put up with Minyard’s constant suspicions, with the guarded access to Kevin, the mocking insults, the break-in to his room, the night in _Columbia_ and having to give up a small portion of the truth. He didn’t care about Minyard’s lack of trust him if it meant that it’s another reason for them to stay apart, but Neil wanted that little bit of a dream for however long he could hold it, that bit of Exy and being as close to a real person as he could be for a few months at least.

So he’s somewhat bemused at Minyard’s antics while sprawled out on the bench during Neil’s nighttime practices with Kevin, busy hacking away at or attempting to burn the red string tying them together for hours on end while Neil and Kevin exhaust themselves playing Exy. Kevin gave the goalie an odd look for it the first night or two then ignored him, as if used to Minyard doing useless things like that.

Neil supposed it started to change when Minyard swore to watch his back and protect him after Ferdinand’s show, in regards to him giving Kevin a reason to stay at PSU. He knew a clock was ticking after him standing up for Kevin to Riko, after him being too… too noticeable, so he didn’t think it mattered when he would only be sticking around for a little longer. Then Riko had to go digging and find out the truth, and Nicky had to beg Neil to ask Andrew to go to the damn dinner at the Hemmick’s….

He had to wonder if there was something about those stories about soulmates and the red string drawing them together, about how it would only entangle around those meant for each other until there was no escape. There was a reason why Neil’s mother had wanted him to sever the damn thing, after all, had warned him to run in the opposite direction if he thought he was drawing close to its terminal.

He ended up promising a bruised and broken Andrew that he’d protect Kevin, only to go to Edgar Allan for a ‘bastard’ who would gladly cut the string connecting them together if given a chance (who was keeping his promise to protect Neil, just like he always kept his promises, so Neil would keep his, too). He ended up bruised and nearly broken, too, with his secrets exposed and the past breathing down his neck, all for Andrew to come out of Easthaven with the drugs gone from his system and hollowed out of emotions, appearing unable to care about anything anymore (other than his promises) after everything that had been done to him. It hurt to see him like that, but it was for the better – Neil was on a countdown with only one outcome, which meant the farther Andrew was away from him, the better.

At least Andrew should be pleased when the string was finally broken.

Which didn’t explain why Andrew kissed him up on the roof that day (why Neil kissed him back), why he was so upset about it yet kissed Neil again. They both knew that it was a mistake, that they had agreed to ignore the string connecting them together, that they were better off without some stupid soulmate… yet Neil kept saying ‘yes’ and Andrew kept asking him.

Neil didn’t understand it, didn’t understand _why_ Andrew. (That wasn’t quite true – yes he was a bastard, but then so was Neil, but he was almost always honest, too, and stood by Neil despite everything.) A random curiosity about why people were attracted to each other aside when Neil was younger, he had been honest when he told Nicky that he didn’t ‘swing’, that he didn’t _want_ anyone.  That no one had attracted him before… and then there was Andrew. He didn’t think it was a soulmate thing, or at least _just_ a soulmate thing, as people could physically want more than just their soulmate.

He only wanted _Andrew_ , only felt a growing sense of desire, a ridiculous urge to smile and kiss and do… whatever Andrew allowed when he with the other teenager. It was confusing and intoxicating and wonderful, and of course it wasn’t meant to last.

His father’s people caught up to him in Binghamton, the clock running out at last, and he meant what he’d told Andrew in the locker room, no lies at all. He gave his soulmate the truth and one last long look, and hoped that Andrew welcomed the freedom he’d longed for at last, no more ties holding him back anymore, no more restraints.

Except Neil couldn’t stop fighting, couldn’t go down quietly, and Uncle Stuart showed up to end the nightmare that had haunted Neil for so long.

It wouldn’t be a clean break, but Neil figured that Andrew would still have some sort of ‘freedom’ when the Feds took him away and put him into protective custody… except that the stubborn fool still wouldn’t let him go. Andrew told him to ‘stay’ – the same Andrew who had smiled at him while trying to cut through the red thread, who had attempted to sever it all those times while in Neil’s presence – and Neil settled beneath his touch and said ‘yes’.

The string between them throbbed at that answer and grew thicker as if to ensure that there was no possibility of it ever being severed or broken or stretched too far, and Andrew pulled Neil closer. The Foxes shuffled around them and Wymack argued with the Feds, but all Neil cared about at the moment was the feel of Andrew’s hand on the back of his neck and the quick press of chapped lips against his forehead, making even the painful ache of his burns and wounds inconsequential.

Andrew was there and had told him to stay, so nothing else mattered.


	19. Andreil - demon neil - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this ‘a boy and his demon meet cute’ - just an experiment/mind worm I wrote down.
> 
> But yes, black magic, revenge, bad things happening to OCs (not graphic) and past bad things happening to other characters, but again, nothing graphic.

******* 

“-pass it around, Scott, don’t hog it!”

“I’m not! I barely got any off of it that time, you asshole! Stop complaining.”

“Both of you shut up before someone hears us.”

“Gawd, you’re such an old man, Ren. Live a little for once!”

“Yeah, come on, help me with this! It’ll be fun!”

Andrew had another swig of the cheap bourbon that Emilio had managed to get his hands on while the rest of the morons fussed over the book Gaby had brought along, even holding up their lighters to help illuminate the dark overhang on the roof of the hellhole currently serving as their home – McDougal Rehabilitation Center (or McD’s, as even the staff called it). A ‘lovely’ place with shitty plumbing and a/c and worse heating, but oh what a bonus that its make-shift security system always went on the fritz after a thunderstorm. Of course that didn’t do its poor wayward inhabitants much good when there was still the nasty outer parameter (Andrew suspected someone of having _trust_ issues, imagine that), but on stormy nights when Jones was running their ward, the lazy bastard didn’t give much of a shit what they did as long as they were back in their beds by morning without any noticeable body harm or destruction of property. 

So up to the roof they went, a chance to breathe some fresh (humid as fuck) air, to smoke and drink. Andrew wasn’t very sociable (at all), but he knew how to bypass the lock on the door and that way he got to keep an eye on the worst of the troublemakers (keep them in front of him, he told himself) while gaining access to said smoke and drink.

Though sometimes he wondered if it was worth it, having to listen to such inanity while he kept ‘watch’, supposedly for any staff showing up, as far as his fellow inmates were concerned.

“No, no, it’s supposed to work!” Gaby insisted, her voice the squeaky half-laugh which indicated she’d had a little too much of Tim’s pot. “I mixed a few things together, stuff I’ve seen and-“

“You’re just gonna make it rain again or something,” Cyn teased. “Or turn Ren into a frog!”

“It’ll be an improvement,” Emilio muttered, only to giggle (Gaby wasn’t the only one affected by the pot) when Ren shoved him a good foot over.

“Lemme concentrate,” Gaby complained as she sprinkled something on the roof (it looked as if she’d grabbed a couple of bottles of glitter from the art room), her brow furrowed and bleached blonde hair twisted into a bun to keep it falling onto the rough surface of the roof. “Uhm, we need some blood. Anyone have a – well, something sharp?”

McD didn’t allow them any weapons (no fun, this place), but they all learned to improvise. Bottle of bourbon held in his hand, Andrew pushed away from the wall near the door to watch Cyn hand Gaby what looked to be a piece of glass wrapped on one end so it could be held, which Gaby used to cut the tip of her left index finger – cut a little too deep, from the way she started swearing.

Meanwhile, Tim, always an asshole, took to laughing as he waved his hand around the glittery symbols. “Oooh, bowels of hell, hear our pleas and send us a servant to do our bidding!” He laughed some more, that time Emilio and Ren joining in as well.

“Not funny,” Cyn told them while Gaby complained about them ruining her spell.

“I don’t know, it worked a little.”

Andrew spun around to face the far end of the roof, where the strange voice had come from – sardonic and without a noticeable accent. There was something dark within the shadows, a human-like shape and two brilliant blue spheres that might be _eyes_ around the same height as Andrew’s, perhaps a little higher. “But it’s not for rain and it’s definitely not for good luck.”

As the stranger spoke, Scott and Tim went charging toward him (it sounded like a ‘him’, like someone around their own age, though Andrew hadn’t heard that voice before), only to disappear into the shadows. There was the sound of something tearing followed by screams, screams which steadily became fainter and then there was the terrible noise of something meaty impacting the ground below.

Andrew threw the bottle off to the side as a distraction, but he only made two steps before there were more screams behind him; he turned to see that the glittery circle had become brilliant, multicolored flames and everyone around it – Gaby, Cyn, Ren and Emilio – were quickly consumed by it. Torn between shock and rage, he turned back to the shadow figure to find it standing in front of him, and gasped despite himself.

The figure was about his height but thinner, slighter, and was covered with scarred, burnt flesh, with remnants of charred clothes and singed dark hair. Between him being able to walk around in such a condition and those eyes, those balefire blue eyes, Andrew realized that it wasn’t human, wasn’t _mortal_. Yet he still struggled to get free, to lash out, to refuse to go down quietly, which only prompted an amused chuckle as he was grasped by the neck by a too-hot hand and lifted up into the air.

Long, narrow fingers choked off his air as the creature grinned, ruined lips pulling back to reveal sharp white teeth. “I _know_ you. Oh yes I do, I _know_ you. You were there that night, you sold us out.”

What was it talking about?

“I am going to enjoy this,” the creature continued as its fingers dug further into Andrew’s throat. “I am-“ It paused for a moment. “Huh.”

“Nah… nah….” Andrew choked out as he clawed at the arm holding him up, as he tried to kick at the body in front of him – seventeen years of twisted bastards and _Drake_ and everything, only to go out like _this_? _Not happening_.

The creature let him go as if repulsed by him, yet didn’t back away. “’Nah’ what?” it asked in a curious tone, its head cocked to the side in an awful parody of a living person.

Coughing for about a minute while he looked around for a weapon (he just had to throw the bottle so far away, didn’t he?), Andrew shook his head. “Not… not him, whoever. Go the fuck away, freak.”

That prompted a laugh from the creature which sent a chill down Andrew’s back reminiscent of trickles of icy water. “You’re actually speaking the truth, aren’t you?” It leaned down, and gone were the thick lumpy scars from the burns, replaced by smooth skin tanned from sun exposure and dusted by freckles, the hair regrown and bright red. The creature was now a kid a little younger than Andrew with sharp, too attractive features and a wicked scythe of a smile and still those balefire eyes. “Nothing?”

“Only a desire to kill you,” Andrew confessed.

That smile grew even sharper. “Much too late, my snarly doppelganger. Let me tell you a little story – oh, we’ll skip along a good bit, no point in boring you, but the heart of it was that me and my mother were trying to avoid some very, very bad people.” The creature’s eyes flared even brighter for a moment and there was a crack of lightning in the sky as if for dramatic effect. “We met with a contact to get papers we needed to keep running, but apparently, he had a side business going on selling drugs and one of his regulars caught sight of us. A regular who had a son. A son who looks _just like you_.”

Andrew stared at the creature as those words sunk in, as he attempted to make sense of them. “This is all an insane delusion, something was in the alcohol.”

“Oh no, you’re not that lucky,” the creature told him. “Your little friend dotted a line she should have zagged and zigged a symbol she should have dotted, and she had some nice _rich_ blood there, yes? Add on to it some idiot making an offer he shouldn’t, and here I am. I had wondered what allowed me to slip free, but now I know.” As it talked, Andrew heard voices down below, voices raised first in anger and then in alarm.

It reached out to flick him on the forehead to regain his attention, and for some reason, he couldn’t move to punch it. “Blood of my traitor, how nice. It looks like I finally get revenge.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Andrew gritted out as he fought to move, angered by the injustice of it all even though he should be used to Fate fucking him over by then.

“You’re the exact same blood as the son of the woman who sold out my mother, who led to me being condemned to hell,” the creature told him, eyes flaring so bright that Andrew had to close his eyes. “Their guilt is _your_ guilt.”

Despite himself, a weak chuckle escaped Andrew; didn’t it figure that he found out that he had a brother (a twin, possibly, from what the damn creature insinuated), found out something about his mother, and it was when some fucking demon from hell arrived to kill him? “Just get it over with, you bastard.”

“I will.” The creature was quiet for a second, and then Andrew felt something slam into his chest, felt a sharp pain and then the world spun around him and-

He opened his eyes to find them standing in a park somewhere. He glanced around at the empty swing sets and then the creature standing next to him, now dressed in baggy jeans and an overlarge plain light blue sweatshirt. “ _This_ is hell?”

The creature snorted as he began to walk away, and for some damn reason Andrew was compelled to follow, to not let him get too far away. “You have very low standards.”

That wasn’t cryptic, was it? Andrew waited until they reached the street before speaking again, which annoyed the hell (irony much) out of him. “I’m alive?”

“So it seems?” The creature stopped to look at him. “Complaints? Not that I normally give a damn about requests, but I can always make an exception for you,” he said with a feral grin as he held up a suddenly clawed right hand.

Andrew gave him the finger in return. “Why?”

“Ah, a question that makes sense.” The creature nodded in what seemed to be approval. “Because it appears that you’re my anchor here now that I’m free, and I’ve many things to do - people to kill, a criminal empire or two to tear down.” It flapped its right hand about in the air a couple of times. “The usual.” It cocked its head to the side as it stared at Andrew. “Did you _want_ to stay back there?”

Andrew considered all of that. “Not particularly. Are my mother and brother part of those ‘people to kill’?”

The creature’s smile didn’t waver. “Your mother, yes. That’s non-negotiable.”

That was taken into consideration with the knowledge that she’d betrayed whatever the creature had been before along with gave up Andrew _and_ dragged his brother into a situation like the creature had described. “Because she betrayed you.”

The smile slipped away to be replaced by something utterly inhuman despite the fact that the creature still wore its ‘pretty’ face. “Because she betrayed _my mother_ and me. She also cost Theo his life, all for a damn fix.”

All right. “What do I call you?” Somehow, Andrew didn’t think ‘creature’ would go down well with other people.

He felt some sort of satisfaction upon seeing the confusion and uncertainty at the question. “Uhm… Neil,” the demon (was it?) told him. “And you? Other than Minyard?”

Andrew nodded once as he tried not to be affected upon hearing what he assumed was his ‘real’ last name. “Andrew.” Oh yes, he was looking forward to finding the woman who’d given birth to him, too.

‘Neil’ nodded in return. “Okay, so if you’re not going to freak out on me,” he waited for Andrew’s response and smiled, the expression almost genuine at Andrew’s narrowed look, “then let’s get started.”

*******


	20. Andreil - sharing a bed - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt - Consider: Andrew and Neil sharing a bed. Obviously we all know that Andrew has to have his back to the wall and it works best when Neil is facing him so that he doesn't just see the back of a head when he wakes up. Also consider that Neil has spent the last decade or so making sure to never have his back to a door, whether awake or asleep. Neil purposely sleeping with his back to the door to make Andrew more comfortable don't mind me I'm just crying over these fools

******

The only thing better than their win against UT (seven to six, and each point hard-won since the Longhorns had done their best to redress their loss the previous season and almost managed to do just that) had been coming into the locker room after the game to find out that their return flight home had been cancelled for the night and they’d have to stay in Austin until they could fly out the next morning due to a string of strong storms moving through the southeast. Considering the rough flight in from Atlanta that had even given Neil a moment or two of unease… well, Neil hadn’t been certain how they were going to get Andrew back on the plane short of horse tranquilizers if the flight home was going to be as turbulent as the earlier flight.

That and after dealing with Jack and Sheena for the last few hours, Neil was quite willing to only have to put up with them for another hour or so - until Wymack was done with the post-game talk, everyone showered and they reached the hotel (after a quick detour to a liquor store).

“Aw come on, aren’t you going to join in on the celebration?” Matt asked once they made it to the hotel, an Embassy Suites a few miles away from the airport. “Isn’t it your job as vice-captain or something?”

Neil arched an eyebrow as he looked at a smiling Dan. “I missed the line in the contract where it said I had to stick around while the team acted like drunken idiots.”

“Oh sweetie, it was right there between the ones about you selling your soul and being my eternal slave, but I’ll let it slide for one night,” she told him. “Go enjoy having a room by yourself,” she said while shooting a meaningful look in Andrew’s direction, while behind her, Kevin’s expression became rather aggrieved as Jack and Sheena leaned closer to each other and sniggered.

Neil ignored the freshmen – well, at least those two, as he waved to Michalyn and gave Greg a quick pat on the shoulder in passing as he left the lobby with Andrew so they could go up to their room while the rest of the Foxes wished them a good night.

They were up on the fourth floor in a single room with a queen sized bed – Wymack had checked quickly before making reservations that it would all right for the two of them to share a bed, considering the last minute reservations and all, and Neil had been a bit surprised when Andrew had said ‘yes’. It had only been in the last month or so that they’d taken to sleeping _together_ , mostly at the house in Columbia but sometimes in the dorm room when it was a good day for both of them and they wanted the comfort of the other’s company.

Neil hadn’t thought that it would be a good night, considering the flight earlier, but they’d won the game that evening (which made it a good day in Neil’s opinion, meant that the Foxes were finally coming together and was one less worry on his mind) and Andrew had a fifth of whiskey (so good for _him_ ).

The only problem as far as Neil could see was that the bed, unlike in the dorm and in the house at Columbia, was stationed in such a position that while the one side was close to the far wall (barring about two feet of space), the other side faced the door. Neil was used to being able to look at the door no matter what side he laid on, but to see it on this one, he’d have to lay on his right.

That would put his back to Andrew, which wasn’t a good idea should Andrew wake up unexpectedly.

“What, never seen a hotel room before?” Andrew chided as he gave Neil a gentle push forward.

“Just waiting for my boyfriend to show up so the fun can start,” Neil shot back as he forced the thoughts about the bed from his head and smiled.

“Great, he can take you off of my hands,” Andrew said as he tossed his travel bag onto the one chair then groaned as he stretched his arms over his head, then reached into the pocket of his Foxes jacket for the bottle of whiskey before he shrugged off the jacket and tossed it aside as well. “A toast to the poor fucker,” he said as he lifted the bottle before he twisted off the lid and sat down on the bed to start drinking.

Neil rolled his eyes as he toed off his shoes then removed his jacket as well. “I’m feeling the love right now.” He motioned for Andrew to move over on the bed and, after removing his shoes, the bastard did just that.

“How many hits did you take to that empty head of yours tonight? I keep telling you this is nothing.” Neil smiled at the feel of Andrew’s fingers threading through his damp hair, gentle for a moment before they gave the strands a quick tug and then gentle again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tired from the game and the hits he had taken from the UT players (none to the head, though), Neil lay down on the bed while Andrew drank, content to merely be in his boyfriend’s presence and to practice their Russian for a little while before he grew too sleepy to concentrate and Andrew grew too contemplative. Before he was unwilling to move, Neil got up to change into a pair of cotton pants and a loose t-shirt after he brushed his teeth, then hesitated only a moment before he slipped under the covers facing Andrew.

It wasn’t too bad with the one light still on and Andrew awake as his boyfriend finished the whiskey and a cigarette, as Neil lay in a semi-restful state where he was still aware of what Andrew was doing and the room around him. Yet soon enough Andrew got ready to sleep as well, double-checked the door and the window before joining Neil on the bed with just a couple of inches between them and his armbands beneath the pillows.

Part of Neil relaxed as always at having Andrew so close, at knowing there was a person nearby whom he trusted, whom he knew would never harm him, who would keep him safe. So Neil took a deep breath and ignored the itch along his back, at the thought of a door behind him (a hotel door, what a fucking joke, he heard his mother’s voice in his head) and everything bad that could go wrong, and focused instead on how Andrew was actually in bed with him. How this one person allowed him in bed like this, how-

“Josten,” Andrew’s tired voice rang out, “stop doing whatever passes for thinking in that junkie head of yours and sleep before I smother you with a pillow.” His right hand, warm and calloused and large, fumbled its way over to Neil’s face to press lightly over his nose and mouth as if to highlight the threat, his thumb stroking along the scars on Neil’s left cheek for a moment, before it slid back to give Neil’s nape a quick squeeze.

“Yeah.” Neil nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow as he breathed in deep the scent of cigarette smoke and smiled as he let out the air in his lungs, suddenly full of peace. “Night, ‘drew.”

“Shut up.”

A smile on his face and Andrew’s warm hand resting on his right wrist, Neil finally fell asleep.

*******


	21. Andreil - brakes fail in the car - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt 'Neil and Andrew in the car, finding out that the breaks have been meddled with and they cannot stop the car or they'll end up dead so they jump. Idk who did that but maybe his dad's folks ? Thanks' I had to alter it a little once I did some research, but here it is.

*******

Andrew revved the Maserati’s engine a little higher before he slipped it into fifth gear on the highway and caught the flash of Neil’s grin in the dim light of the car’s interior illumination and the gleam of his tousled auburn hair falling into his eyes in the occasional overhead lamps on the road. They were a couple of hours outside of Chicago on I-55, were driving for the hell of it and the chance to get away from the congestion of the city and to do something other than Exy, to hit the open road for a little while as they sat side by side in a quiet, peaceful contentment. The cats had enough food and water to last until they returned tomorrow, there was a full pack of cigarettes in the glove compartment and they knew the road well enough to plan stops for fuel and food at opportune moments.

It was what Andrew needed on an off weekend, was a chance to let go of everything but the roar of his car’s engine and the burn of tobacco and the feel of Neil’s fingers on his own when he dropped his hand from the gear shift. Was the knowledge that when they reached the one motel with the grubby exterior but clean rooms another hour down the highway, it would just be him and Neil in a quiet room to either just sleep or spend however long he wanted to break the idiot into pieces (damn Neil for having told the truth about that ‘it’ll always be yes for you’).

Realizing that it would be best to stop at the upcoming exit to top off the gas tank and get some more coffee, Andrew went to slow down and frowned when there was no resistance when he stepped on the brake pedal. The frown deepened when he pumped the brake again and let go of the clutch since he hadn’t slowed enough to downshift.

“Andrew?” Neil sounded a little sleepy and turned in the passenger seat to better look at him. “Is something wrong?”

At first Andrew didn’t answer as he continued to pump the brake pedal to no effect. “Fucking irony,” he snorted in a flat voice as he fought down an odd emotion in his chest – something that was a mix of bitter amusement, anger and a tiny bit of fear. Oh, someone had a sense of humor, didn’t they? “It seems that we’ve lost the brakes, isn’t that interesting?” And quite the coincidence.

Neil was quiet for a few seconds as his expression went blank, then he gave his scalp a quick scrub as if to clear his head. “Yeah, right.” His eyes were intent as he met Andrew’s. “You know what to do?”

Andrew scoffed at that – his knowledge extended to the tampering part when it came to brake lines. “You do?”

Somehow it didn’t surprise him when Neil nodded, his face pale beneath the thin knife scars and lighter burns. “Start downshifting.” When Andrew grimaced at that, he smiled a little, the expression without humor. “Get us through this and we can buy a new car.”

“I like this one,” Andrew complained, but at least the idiot thought they had a chance of surviving; he grit his teeth as he started to downshift and ignored how the engine revved too high and the gears bitched.

“If you didn’t have to have the damn fancy sports car, we could try the emergency brake,” Neil muttered as he stared at the speedometer. “But no, it’s all electronic.”

“Says the idiot who barely drives his car,” Andrew shot back as he noticed the curve of the road ahead – of course everything was flat so there weren’t any inclines to slow them down. “Any other bright ideas?”

“One you’re not going to like.”

“I’m not jumping out of this thing onto concrete at eighty miles per hour,” Andrew warned.

“Not that.” Neil flashed him a rueful grin. “Use the barrier to help slow us down – we’re coming into the curve so just… uhm, steer into it.” He winced at Andrew’s narrowed look. “Don’t crash.”

“I take that back, let’s jump.” Neil wanted him to run his _car_ along- _fuck_. Andrew tried downshifting again, but they were still going too fast, had too much momentum behind them. “I get to gut whoever did this to us.”

“Agreed.” Neil took a deep breath and then slumped down in his seat as if doing his best to relax while Andrew eyed the upcoming curve. The rear end of the Maserati swung a little as he got it into place, and he cursed at the awful grinding sound when it hit the concrete barrier lining the side of the highway.

The grinding sound went on and a passing car blasted its horn at them – Andrew was fighting to keep the Maserati under control at the time to notice which direction – while Neil had his arms up over his head to protect it. At least he’d been right about it slowing them down, and then the Maserati hit something and spun around, the world a blur before impact and noise and something slamming into Andrew’s face.

He came to with the taste of blood in his mouth, his face on fire and unable to breathe through his nose (broken, he was willing to bet, familiar with the condition after ten years of Exy and twenty six years of living), a collapsed airbag draped over the steering wheel of his poor Maserati and Neil kneeling in front of him by the open door with a bunch of people hovering off by the side of the road near their parked cars. Andrew could hear sirens in the distance, which was good because Neil was bleeding from a cut to his right temple and his right arm gleamed wet in the darkness.

“Hey you,” Neil said, his voice hoarse and smile uncertain as his hands hovered by Andrew’s left leg.

“We’re gettin’… Ferrari next,” Andrew told his idiot as he reached out to cup the back of Neil’s neck with his trembling left hand.

Neil’s smile strengthened at that. “’kay.” He leaned against Andrew’s shoulder while the ambulance pulled up to the wrecked Maserati, and Andrew sat there thinking about everything, about Neil – no, _Nathaniel_ knowing what to do in the fucked up situation that night.

Ichirou wouldn’t bother to cut brake lines, he would call Neil to him so Neil would know that he’d messed up, that he’d let the man down and so was paying for it with his life. Ichirou wouldn’t leave things to chance like that. No, Andrew had an idea who was behind tonight, at least in general, so all that was left was tracking down who it had been of Nathan Wesninski’s remaining crew who’d tried to be clever.

But that was okay, because it looked as if he and Neil would have a short break from Exy for at least the next week or so while they recovered. Andrew could get a lot done in that time if he was inspired, and watching a paramedic have to coax a wary Neil to an ambulance to deal with his wounds inspired the hell out of him.

They’d dared to come after two of Andrew’s things – his car and his life with Neil, and now Andrew would show them the error of their ways.

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That seems to be it for now! Thank you so much, everyone who reads these and leaves any kudos or comments!


	22. Andreil - Death!Neil does Halloween - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I just realized there was this fic - Death!Neil and Andrew go trick or treating. Enjoy!

*******

Neil frowned when Andrew handed him the robe and the fake scythe. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Because it’s tradition,” Andrew repeated for the fourteenth time. “And no, I don’t want to hear yet another story about the Irish honoring their ancestors, Romans and their stupid apple goddesses, and how the Christians had to go and ruin everything.” He motioned for Neil to put on the robe. “It’s what they do, I’d have thought you’d be used to it after almost two thousand years.”

“But it was merely a day for-“ Neil let out an inelegant squawk when the robe was yanked over his head. “This is about the offerings, isn’t it?” he asked as he pushed the hood back and glared at Andrew. “The bits of chocolate and sugar in the paper wrappers?”

“Perish the thought,” Andrew said with a bland look. “We’re merely taking advantage of the one night where you can walk around as yourself before going to Allison’s for a party. Don’t forget your scythe and your bag.”

“But this _isn’t_ me,” Neil insisted even as he accepted both items (and King took to batting at the hem of the overlarge black robe). “Really, I don’t know how that rumor started about me being some skeleton, it’s utterly preposterous.”

Yes, because Neil wasn’t some scrawny bastard at all who preferred to skulk around in hoodies all the time, was he? Well, he _was_ on the lean side, but he was a bit better than skin and bones, thankfully. “Poor thing.”

Neil didn’t seem to appreciate Andrew as a wonderfully sympathetic partner, did he? “And what are you supposed to be?” he asked as he glanced up and down in an unimpressed manner at Andrew’s outfit, which consisted of his usual black jeans, that time ripped in several places, a pair of thick black leather boots which laced up the front, a black t-shirt with a long, black leather coat on top which sported a ridiculous amount of buckles and straps. Oh, and his wings were out – his wings and his claws, which could be clearly seen since he wore half-gloves on his hands.

Andrew ‘smiled’, which put his fangs on display. “That’s the fun part, I’m not really anything but they’ll just assume I’m some character from a stupid game or movie. So in a way, we’re both going out as ourselves and no one will be the wiser.”

“How wonderful,” Neil said, voice thick with sarcasm as he tugged the hood down over his forehead. “What if I just buy you the chocolate? Wouldn’t that be easier?” he tried to bargain.

“No.” Andrew picked up his own bag and wrapped his other arm around Neil’s garbed waist. “Let’s get going,” he said as he slipped them both _between_ to Bee’s house.

“-remember to give them just one piece each,” she was telling Nicky and Erik, who had promised to come over to hand out candy for her while she went to some party at Abby and Wymack’s house and Aaron... Aaron was busy with Katelyn. “It’s a busy neighborhood so kids always get a lot.”

“At least you got the good stuff,” Andrew called out, which made Bee turn around to smile at them while Nicky waved and Erik frowned; Bee was dressed as a bee keeper (how clever), while Nicky and Erik had gone for some couple’s costume with Nicky dressed as an old-school Robin and Erik as Batman.

“Well, it helped that I didn’t have to hide it from you the last few days. Hmm, so you’re… what, Death and the Angel of Destruction?” Bee guessed as she handed Andrew a piece of candy before leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

Feeling rather smug at the moment, Andrew elbowed a sighing Neil in the side before he tore open the Twix wrapper. “Something like that. What sort of shenanigans are you getting into tonight?”

“Not telling.” Bee flashed him a smile before she dropped several more pieces of candy into his bag; he had to nudge Neil again then motion to his idiot to make Neil hold up his bag so Bee could hand over more candy. “Try not to cause too much trouble yourself.”

“No promises.” Andrew headed for the door, mindful of his wings, with Neil trailing behind him. “You two, don’t do any perverted shit while there’s kids present.”

“We won’t,” Nicky pouted as he tugged at the elastic of his tights. “Not until we finish handing out the candy and get to Allison’s party, at least.”

Why the hell he was related to such a pain in the ass…. Andrew gave Erik a stern look, certain that the light elf would mostly behave for the next hour or two, and received a displeased frown in return. “Your outfits are unsuitable,” Erik chided him.

“Don’t care,” Andrew sang out as he stepped out of the door, intent on claiming as much candy as he could. Behind him, Neil murmured something, possibly an agreement, and then hurried to catch up to him.

“This is a rather ridiculous twist on what was a perfectly fine holiday,” Neil complained as they joined the parents escorting their children along the sidewalks to the houses with their outside lights on and porches decorated with jack-o-lanterns, among other items (such as inflatable pumpkins and ghosts). “I miss the bonfires.”

“Maybe there’ll be one at Allison’s.”

“Hmm.” That seemed to cheer the idiot up, at least until they got to the first house where the woman handing out the candy first asked Neil where his mask was and then if they weren’t a little old for Halloween. Andrew ‘smiled’ a little more while Neil went ‘cold’, and two large handfuls of candy were dumped into their bags.

That was repeated at almost all of the houses they visited; confused looks once they got close enough to the person handing out the candy, snide remarks about Neil’s lack of a mask or make-up and/or their age, and then copious amounts of candy handed over to make them leave. On the eighteenth house, some guy who seemed to be ‘celebrating’ the holiday with beer while he handed out candy was unwise enough to remark to Neil that he was a ‘pretty pathetic Death’, which made Neil go full Aspect on the moron.

They got the entire bowl dumped into Neil’s bag and several unopened bags of candy thrown into Andrew’s before the guy, babbling incoherently at the time, slammed the door shut in their faces and turned off the lights.

“I truly hope there’s a bonfire and some apple cider at the party,” Neil sighed as they turned back to the sidewalk.

“Poor idiot,” Andrew sneered as he shook his bag; it was a good thing that Renee had taught him the one displacement spell a few weeks ago or else the thing would be overflowing with candy after that last house, but it would be all safe and sound back home (and warded from the damn cats).

“Yes,” Neil agreed as he stared at the fake scythe in his left hand for a moment as if debating on making it real.

There was a group of kids in front of them while they waited for Whitehorse’s house (Andrew would skip it, but he remembered that she always was one of the more generous candy givers); while a couple of kids dressed as turtles did their ‘trick or treat’ thing, the little girl right in front of them complained to her mother about her costume.

“But it’s itchy and uncomfortable,” she said with a sniff as she tugged on the full, frilly skirt.

“I don’t want to hear it anymore, Jillie, you look pretty in it,” the mother answered in a sharp voice as if her patience had worn thin.

“But I wanted the dragon costume!”

“That’s just a big lizard, you’re not going to be something like that. A princess is much cuter. Who doesn’t want to be a princess? They get to be pretty and everyone wants to do things for them.”

Andrew sighed when Neil leaned toward the girl, aware by then of what was to come. “I suppose being a princess is fitting for Halloween,” his lover told the girl while Andrew glared at the woman to keep her from yelling at Neil for talking to her child. “Some princesses were very brave and smart, they had to be because most of the time, no one wanted to listen to them or to allow them to do anything. People just wanted them to look pretty, would force them to be obedient little dolls. So they had to be clever if they didn’t want to be killed by the people who wanted to use them.” He turned toward the mother. “Is that the lesson you want for your daughter? A pretty mask that has no real use, or to hide the sharpness beneath?” The silver light crept into his eyes as he gazed up at her, a hint of his Aspect breaking free, but the child didn’t seem bothered by it.

The woman was stunned silent for several seconds before she shuddered and grabbed her daughter’s hand to pull her forward. “Come on, Jillie. Next year you can be a dragon or whatever.”

“Yay! No one tells a dragon that they’re just pretty,” the girl said with evident delight.

“Subtle much?” Andrew asked as they slowly followed.

“Well, I don’t understand all these senseless costumes,” Neil admitted as a hint of fire danced in his hair as well. “Clearly these people have never met a real unicorn if they think them ‘cute’ creatures associated with rainbows and sparkles, nor have they met a merperson. And why do they think witches have green skin, too? It’s all so confusing.”

“Poor little idiot, having to deal with mortals when they just want to have a bit of fun,” Andrew mocked as his wings rustled behind him.

“It was so much simpler when they just stuck with their sa-“

He used his right wing to smack into his lover’s back. “No saying that word!” Behind them, some children chattered excitedly about his ‘amazing costume’, and then it was their turn at Mrs. Whitehorse’s door.

She gave them each an appraising stare for a couple of seconds and handed over a respectful amount of candy with a solemn nod while wishing them a Happy All Hallow’s Eve.

That seemed to cheer Neil up for a short while… until he saw a child run past dressed as a little mini-Death, complete with a skeleton mask and a glow in the dark scythe.

“This is such a trying time of the year,” he complained, only to sigh even louder when they came across a house decorated for the Day of the Dead.

“Come on now, a whole day dedicated to you, sorta,” Andrew said while he munched on a mini-Snickers. “You’d look great with a flower crown.”

Neil made a sound between a half-wheeze and a strangled cry.

“Surely even a glutton like you has enough candy,” he said after several blocks. “How much longer must we do this?”

“Hmm, a little longer.” Andrew was waiting for something – he figured it would be any moment now.

The answer made Neil sulk a little, at least until they came across an outdoor cat he could pet for a few seconds. Then it was a few more houses, another snide comment and blast of Aspect (that time on Andrew’s part – he didn’t appreciate being told to ‘come back for Thanksgiving’) and more candy.

They were crossing the street when Wrath finally appeared, dressed down for once in black slacks and a dark grey sweater. “Hey, Kiddo, you have to come with me to Yama’s… what the _fuck_?” He finally seemed to catch on to what his nephew was wearing, his grey eyes turning red and Aspect flaring as he turned to Andrew. “You little shit!”

“And there we go,” Andrew said with some satisfaction as he grabbed onto his confused lover’s arm and slipped them _between_ to Allison’s house before Wrath could either attempt to throttle him or ‘save’ his precious nephew.

The look on Wrath’s face just then and the sure to be _months_ of ranting from the Vice made what was certain to be Neil’s next few years (at least) of leeriness around October 31 st worth it.

They arrived to find the party in full swing, with Matt dressed in a tunic and some weird clay shit in his hair, while Dan wore ornately woven fabrics which left her arms and long legs bare busy dancing to the loud music (‘I Want Candy’, how clever). Renee smiled as she approached, dressed in a pale yellow chiton which fell in elegant folds to the top of her bare feet, with an aggrieved Allison at her side who appeared as if she’d stepped out of some medieval painting with the rich fabric of her dark red dress.

“ _Do_ something about him,” she complained as she motioned with the hand holding what looked to be champagne at Kevin (dressed in an overlarge black cloak which probably made Neil envious as hell), who was talking to (or lecturing) a Jean (looking as if he was a French officer from a couple of centuries ago) who was steadily drinking and a Jeremy (costumed as a knight in shining armor, what a surprise) who barely managed a civil smile. “He keeps going on and on about how the mortals have ruined the holiday.”

“Who does that sound like?” Andrew gave Neil a pointed stare as he wrapped his left wing around his lover. “Come on, let’s see if there’s some apple cider,” and alcohol, “and let you two killjoys bitch at each for a while.”

Neil perked up at that as he vanished the fake scythe away and morphed the robe into a cloak similar to Kevin’s, then handed the bag of candy to Andrew so he could vanish it back to the apartment as well (he wasn’t about to share the goods with anyone). Renee gave him a wink as she tagged along to show them the refreshments.

*******


	23. Andreil - soulmates/Nest - M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm double-checking various fics/prompts to find everything so people can actually search everything, and I'm trying to figure out if this fic was posted anywhere other than tumblr or not? Another Andreil soulmate fic, heavy on the angst but I hoped to continue it someday and give it a more hopeful ending. But yes, Andrew and Neil in the Nest. Honestly, I'm trying to figure out what prompted this... Raven!Andrew or something?
> 
> Anyway, warnings for Andrew and Neil/Nathaniel in the Nest. Hints of the abuse Neil suffers in at the Nest (considering what we know about Jean and all).
> 
> And I really, REALLY think this is all for now. Wow, that's over a dozen prompts in one day....

*******

Andrew was used to not getting what he wanted, to Fate always fucking him over in various ways. There was the fact that _he_ was the twin which Tilda had given up for adoption and the long chain of nightmare foster ‘families’. There was finally finding what he’d thought was a home with Cass Spear and then _Drake_ showing up to ruin it (to ruin him). There had been the time in juvie, only for Pig Higgins to meddle and Luther to be an annoyance and off to Columbia Andrew had gone.

Things hadn’t gotten any better there, had they? Oh no, there it had been Tilda and Aaron and yet another new mess, had been Nicky stepping in to try to make things better and the night out in Eden’s parking lot with its ensuing consequences. Had been Andrew picking up Exy back in juvie as a means to escape some of the mandatory therapy sessions (everyone trying to get into his head and beneath his skin, everyone trying to _control_ him), and then an attempt to keep an eye on Aaron, which had then led to a bunch of annoying birdies paying him a visit.

He didn’t give a shit about scholarships or Edgar Allan or the best team in NCAA Class I division, about the promises of fame and fortune when the only thing that got him up each medicated day was the promise he’d made to his brother. Yet an arrogant Riko Moriyama and demanding Kevin Day had brought with them a pretty shadow with red hair and a sardonic grin bearing a ‘3’ tattoo on his left cheek, one Nathaniel Wesninski. Andrew had the impression that he was there as someone closer to Andrew’s age since the kid hadn’t graduated yet and wasn’t ‘officially’ a Raven even though he bore the stupid Perfect Court tramp stamp and had lived at Edgar Allan the last few years.

All he knew was that he was in the middle of his fifth variation of ‘fuck off and fuck you’ to Moriyama and Day when Wesninski shifted a little closer (he thought that Day had given him a push), and then _it_ had happened; both of them stiffened in reaction, Wesninski’s eyes widening a little but still the big grin on Andrew’s as Wesninski clutched at his left forearm and Andrew rubbed his, at the throbbing area hidden beneath his armband.

At the dark patch of skin which could never be excised, no matter how much he or anyone ( _Drake_ ) had tried – it was his soul mark, after all, was waiting for his ‘other half’ to find him so it could reveal its true form so he’d know that they’d finally crossed paths (Drake at first had been bitter that it hadn’t changed for him, and then taunted Andrew that it never would change, that his soulmate would never want him).

Wesninski was quick to drop his right hand, as was Andrew, but Riko Moriyama had noticed and snatched at the redhead’s left wrist with a pleased grin. “Did it happen? Do you have something to show us, Nathaniel?” he asked in a too bright voice while Wesninski flinched, the motion slight. His fingers dug into the smaller boy’s forearm as he yanked back the sleeve of the black shirt to reveal a bright black mark against skin marred by what looked to be a few thin scars – an infinity symbol with a north star placed over the center of it. “That’s new,” Moriyama said as he turned toward Andrew while Wesninski – Nathaniel – shook his head.

“I… it’s nothing,” Nathaniel tried to argue, which surprised Andrew since everyone (almost everyone) was so eager to find their soulmates; his words made Day stare at him in shock.

Moriyama clicked his tongue in disagreement. “No it’s not, you just found your soulmate!” He gave Andrew a sharp grin. “Your soulmate and our newest goalie, isn’t this such a happy occasion?” As he spoke, he dug his fingers even more into Nathaniel’s forearm, into his wrist, until Nathaniel gulped and closed his eyes as if to bear the pain… but he didn’t pull away and he didn’t try to fight back.

Andrew never wanted a soulmate. He refused to believe that someone was ‘his’, that he was tied to another person because of some stupid twist of fate, that they were meant to be together because of some stupid mark on their bodies when he could only stand to touch someone on his carefully defined terms, when he _knew_ that someone wouldn’t willing choose anyone as broken and tainted as himself.

Yet he signed the contract with Edgar Allan to be their goalie for five years, signed it for room and board and a yearly allowance, and even argued for an hardship scholarship for Aaron (there was no way they’d allow his brother on the team, not at his level of skill, but as long as Aaron kept his grades up he could get a Bachelor’s degree in Biology without having to whore himself out for loans and then go elsewhere for medical school, which was all he wanted in the end). That saw through Andrew’s promise to his brother and left Nicky free to finally return to Germany and Erik, so everyone (but Andrew) was happy (what else was new?).

He thought that Riko Moriyama only agreed to his terms as a means to have that tighter of a leash on him, and as soon as they both graduated (Nicky was sticking around until Aaron left Columbia), Andrew was off to Edgar Allan for the start of training and any illusions of his life improving were shattered.

Even though the Ravens had a nice big house on campus, they lived beneath Castle Evermore, the famous Exy stadium – all the better for Tetsuji Moriyama to control them, he supposed. They were also formed into pairs for the sake of sharing rooms and training, were told to stick together almost all the time… or else. Andrew _hated_ it, hated having to share space with another person, having someone close to him all the time, being told he had to rely on that person, to trust them (not going to happen).

He hated that it wasn’t Nathaniel (he shouldn’t care).

He hated that Nathaniel was paired with Jean Moreau, number ‘4’ of the Perfect Court, another backliner (he shouldn’t care, _dammit_ ).

He hated the way that Nathaniel looked at Moreau with such trust and affection, the way they were always murmuring in French to each other, Moreau’s dark head bowed since he towered over Nathaniel’s 5’2” by at least a foot (he _didn’t_ care, dammit, it was just the drugs).

Andrew’s ‘partner’ was Ben Anders, a second year goalkeeper on the team, though his rank was much lower than Andrew’s – was ‘21’ and not the ‘10’ that Andrew had been given. Apparently Day and Riko had argued about that, with Day wanting Andrew as Perfect Court and Riko stating that Andrew had to ‘prove’ it, so a compromise had been reached.

Anders wasn’t awful, he seemed to realize to give Andrew some space and not to touch him, but he still was _there_ all the time and… and he wasn’t Nathaniel. Apparently all of the Ravens knew that Andrew was Nathaniel’s (Nate’s) soulmate (he suspected that he had a certain captain to thank for that) and gave them odd looks whenever they were near each other as if expecting some sort of acknowledgement, but Nathaniel would only pay attention to Andrew when he was out on the court, was in the goal.

Any other time his attention was reserved for Moreau and Riko and Day, for whatever Tetsuji (the ‘Master’) was telling the team to do, instructions on training drills or exercises. Despite his short stature he was more than capable of taking on players twice his size on the court, in stymieing them from the goal and snatching the ball from them to pass it on to Day or Riko or whoever else was on offense at the moment; the few times that Andrew was in the goal which he was helping to defend they worked well together, would manage an odd ‘sync’ where he could pass the ball to Nathaniel without any effort should someone manage to get pass the kid and Moreau.

And then Nathaniel would be back to chasing after Moreau once the skirmish was over, to sitting next to him and chatting about something, so animated and excited while Moreau smiled at him. Andrew didn’t understand it, especially since from what he’d seen in the showers (seen too much in the showers, as open as they were, seen the scars on both of the backliners’ bodies which no one talked about), Moreau had his own soul mark – a wave-like line overlaid with a fleur-de-lis.

Moreau belonged to someone else, someone not a Raven (not yet, or not anymore), so Nathaniel was fixated on someone who’d never be his. Was fixated on a man who wasn’t his soulmate.

From what Andrew could tell, few of the Ravens bore soulmate marks – Nathaniel, Moreau, Day, Lau, and Hebig. He and Nathaniel were the only ones bound to each other, and they barely spoke more than a handful of words to each other. Yet any time Andrew performed ‘poorly’ during a practice, Riko would smile at him and tap his left forearm, right where the soul mark was hidden beneath Andrew’s armband.

He’d grinned back at the prick one ‘afternoon’ and deliberately missed all of the shots during the morning practice the next day, worn down by little sleep, by the memory of Drake’s hands on him, by how he couldn’t leave the damn Nest and go out to drive away the awful feelings inside of him, by the fact that he was desperate for a cigarette and a drink and ten _fucking_ minutes alone. What did it matter if the ‘Master’ (never Andrew’s, _never_ ) beat him like he’d did Lincoln the other day for messing up the drills? Andrew was used to pain.

Riko’s grin was a cruel, bright slash across his face when Nathaniel showed up the next morning with two black-eyes and a split lip, barely able to walk from being hunched over in pain as he hobbled onto the court with his racquet wavering in his hands. Moreau gave Andrew a look of pure loathing as he took his place beside his partner, and Nathaniel ignored Andrew the entire ‘day’.

Despite his many faults, Andrew was a fast learner and didn’t slack off after that. He knew it would only get worse when classes started and Aaron showed up, and had to resist the urge to dig off the damn black mark from his arm, to pull out his knives and put them to use.

There were numerous scars on his left (and right) arm from him trying to make the pain end in one way or another, but none ever took on _that_ patch of skin. Fate indeed was a mocking bastard. At least suffering through ridiculous sixteen hour days working out and repeating stupid drills and wasting time on an Exy court meant that he didn’t have much time to answer Nicky’s bothersome calls. No, he just popped his pills and counted down the days until classes started when he could see Aaron again and reminded himself about why he couldn’t bring his racquet down on Riko’s or Moreau’s head.

It was getting near the end of summer training when Riko, Day and Moreau were off for some media event that Andrew came across Nathaniel in one of the break rooms while fetching some coffee for himself; something twisted inside of him to see the backliner wearing a sweatshirt with Moreau’s name and number across the back.

Nathaniel eyed him for a moment and resumed staring into the mug of tea he was making. “You could be Perfect Court, you know, if you tried a little harder.”

Andrew huffed as he set the pot of coffee back on the burner and searched through the cupboards in vain for any sugar, yet another reason to hate the Nest. “Oh, he speaks, what an honor.” And of course it was about _Exy_.

That earned him a sour look as Nathaniel threw out the teabag. “Ever think there’s a reason why I don’t? Why don’t you try harder out on the-“

Andrew held out his left hand to stop the nonsense. “I don’t care.”

Now Nathaniel appeared frustrated. “But you signed the contract and came here. You’re playing Exy and everything, how can’t you care?”

How could someone be so stupid? “It’s a means to an end,” Andrew said as he pulled out some almond milk and grimaced before he added it to the coffee. “Not all of us give a damn about this stupid sport.”

“It’s not stupid,” Nathaniel argued. “So what, you’re doing it because of your brother? That’s a waste of talent.” Andrew gave him a pointed look as he slurped his awful coffee, suffering through the taste for the sake of caffeine, the one vice he sort of was allowed. “You could have so much if you just tried,” Nathaniel continued, his tea neglected on the counter and left hand rubbing at his tattooed cheek, the sleeve of the overlarge sweatshirt sliding down enough to reveal the mark. “Go on to the pros and Court and… and go _anywhere_. Could have anything you want.”

He sounded jealous and a bit wistful.

“Not _anything_ ,” Andrew remarked as he lowered his mug, his gaze intent on Nathaniel. No, he never seemed to get what he wanted, now did he? Not the home with Cass, the brother with Aaron, the soulmate with the gorgeous face and big blue eyes and bright red hair. It was all right, though, he was used to it by then.

It seemed to take a moment for that to sink in with Nathaniel, who backed up against the counter near his mug. “I… no.” He shook his head as he rubbed at his left forearm, right above the wrist where the detested black mark was sunk into his skin. “It doesn’t _matter_ , does it? It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t mean we’re really made for each other.” It sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than anything. “Doesn’t mean we’ll be happy or fall in love.” He spat out the words as if they were vile to him. “It’s just a meaningless symbol meant to hurt us, to betray us, so I’m not falling for it, I _know_ better.”

It almost sounded like he was reciting those words from memory.

Part of Andrew wanted to laugh – imagine that, someone who hated the mark just as much as he did, who thought it was bullshit, too. What were the odds that it would be _his_ soulmate? That it wasn’t just another sign that Nathaniel was ‘meant’ for him?

Oh yes, Fate really did hate him, didn’t it?

“So what, you think you can just ignore it?” he asked with a wide grin, even though that was exactly what he planned to do (even though he’d come here in part because of that damn mark). “You think you can find someone else, someone who’ll ignore it?” As that acrid emotion filled him once more, as it burned hot and violent inside of his chest (it wasn’t real, that emotion, he told himself) when Nathaniel flinched as he leaned a little closer. “You think _Moreau_ will ignore it?”

“You don’t know _anything_ ,” Nathaniel told him, his tone sullen and expression guarded.

“I know how you look at him - even though you’re not his,” Andrew taunted as that acrid emotion flared even hotter inside of him, strong enough to burn through the high of the meds. “How you follow him around like a pathetic puppy. Tell me, does he buy into that mark meaning nothing, too?” His grin grew wider when Nathaniel was quiet. “Oh ho, poor little birdy, yearning for someone who will _never_ be his. I bet he puts up with you because you’re his widdle roommate, his partner, this pathetic child Tetsuji told him to watch over and now it’s even better, you branded as someone else’s pro-“

He ducked as Nathaniel threw the mug of tea at him. “Fuck you!” Nathaniel screamed, his face a mask of rage and fear, of all things. “You’re just like _him_! I _hate_ you! I’d burn this off if I could!” he yelled as he ran from the break room.

No, Andrew never got what he wanted. Though that time… that time it looked as if he might be part of the reason why.

He left his half-finished mug of coffee behind as he strolled out of the break room, past the various Ravens in the hallway who gave him a wide berth. Just a few more days and Aaron would be there, would owe him enough to get his hands on some alcohol at the least to make Andrew’s time at the Nest bearable.

As bearable as it could be, stuck with a soulmate who hated him, who he’d never have. Just one more thing on a long list of what he wanted and could never have.

He didn’t know who he hated more just then, himself or Moreau.

Or Nathaniel. He really, really _hated_ Nathaniel just then.

******


	24. Nathaniel's Birthday - Andreil T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was written for Nathaniel's birthday, and I believe it was based on the prompt that Andrew does something nice for Neil on his 'birthday' (Nathaniel's birthday).
> 
> Just the warnings for Neil thinking about his past.  
> *******

*******

Neil was on edge as the weekend approached, which he supposed most of the Foxes put down to him being stressed about them reaching the play-offs and having a home game against the Ohio State Buckeyes. Which was in part true – the Foxes needed to win, to get their two out of three games and maintain a good point average while preparing the freshmen for playing with the more advanced teams of the championship season, but Ohio State didn’t present _that_ much of a challenge.

Even with ‘Jack the Asshole’ and his partner, Sheena, making random ‘Nathanial’ and ‘Wesninski’ comments, no one thought anything of Friday night other than of kicking Buckeye ass (which really, Neil couldn’t figure out that team name or their hideous mascot)… well, other than the couple of times when Neil caught Andrew or Wymack giving him intent looks while in the locker room.

They didn’t say anything, though, which was fine with him since he didn’t want to think about what had happened around that time last year, about the significance of that weekend.

The Foxes won by six points even with Jack trying to hog the damn ball while out on the court with Neil (earning an earful from Dan, Wymack _and_ Kevin after the game), and once the post-games interviews and review were done, the Monsters piled into the Maserati and headed off to Columbia.

Neil felt some of his anxiety fade away as they left PSU behind, as he sat next to Andrew in the car with the scent of cigarette smoke filling his senses each time he inhaled, the sound of Nicky and Aaron squabbling over what soundtrack to play while Kevin called them out on their ‘poor taste’. He smiled when Andrew, quiet as ever, held out his right hand with the palm upward once they were on the highway and was quick to entwine their fingers together.

It was a usual Friday night, was their stop at Sweetie’s for food and ice cream then off to Eden’s where Neil only had one shot to celebrate their win then allowed himself to be distracted by arguing with an increasingly drunk Kevin over the possible line-up for the rest of the championship season. For a while Neil could forget everything when he had Andrew by his side and his friends around him, when he felt as if he belonged among them.

When they got back to the house in Columbia with him and Andrew the only two sober ones out of the group, and once Kevin and Aaron and Nicky were in their respective beds, Andrew led him up to the bedroom they shared and asked him ‘yes or no’ then stripped him of his clothes after he replied ‘yes’. Neil forgot about everything but how _good_ Andrew always made him feel, the feel of skin against skin as they moved together, as hands stroked and nails gently scratched then soothed, as mouths kissed and sucked, teeth nipped and teased and bit.

He fell asleep to the feel of Andrew’s fingers trailing along his right arm, his lover’s body heat soaking into his back as Andrew lay a scant inch away, the scent of soap from their recent shower mingling with the faint hint of cigarette smoke which lingered on the pillow beneath his head. Exhausted and sated, Neil somehow managed to sleep through the night without any bad dreams.

When he woke up the next day, the house quiet and a sliver of light from the rising sun peeked through the mostly drawn curtains, he lay in bed for a minute or two before the overwhelming urge to _move_ had him sliding from beneath the warm blankets so he could go about his morning run. Andrew made a low, disgruntled noise of complaint as he pulled the blankets almost all the way over his head and rolled over to face the wall while Neil dressed warm enough for the ‘cold’ (for South Carolina) weather then left the room as quietly as he could before heading for the kitchen door without waking any of the others.

He ran for almost two hours, until the awful urge to _flee_ , to find the nearest bus stop or train station, to heed his mother’s dying wishes finally faded away and he could return to the house without any trepidation. Until the memories of blood on walls, of cruel smiles and bright knives had been pushed away (for the time being), until he could convince himself that it was just another day, that it didn’t have any special meaning to him.

It _didn’t_ have any special meaning, not to Neil Josten.

As soon as he used his key (the key Andrew had given him) to enter the house, he smelled fresh coffee brewing, which was a surprise since none of the others would wake up after a night at Eden’s until almost noon, if they could help it. Neil usually made coffee when he returned from a run so it would be ready when he stepped out of his shower, yet there it was, the last few drops falling into a full pot. He blinked in confusion before he grabbed a mug so he could enjoy some to drink as soon as he stepped out of the shower.

There was no sign of anyone else being up as he went to the bathroom – all the bedroom doors were closed, and it was dark in the den with Kevin’s loud snores filling the first floor (even echoing up into the second level as Neil climbed the steps).

The next surprise awaited Neil as he entered the bathroom; there were fresh towels set out on the bathroom sink, still warm and fluffed from the dryer as if they’d been set out mere moments before he’d returned to the house, along with a change of clothes. Savoring the feel of the linens, he was quick to shed his sweat-soaked clothes and reached into the shower to start the water, only to find that someone must have run it when they brought the towels and clothes in so it would be hot right away when he stepped into shower.

Touched by the show of thoughtfulness, he quickly entered the bath/shower and pulled the curtain shut so he could wash off, grateful for the hot water which rained down on his skin after all the time out in the cold. Once he was clean, he smiled at the still warm towels, and noticed that the sweatshirt was an old one of Andrew’s which he loved to borrow since it was so soft from age.

Neil took his time getting ready that morning, his spirits buoyed by the kind actions shown toward him, and made sure to grab his dirty clothes and the damp towels to take to the laundry room before he went back to the first floor.

When he opened the fridge to make something for breakfast, he merely shook his head at the sight of the pints of fresh strawberries and blueberries on the top shelf, along with a few other items which he knew hadn’t been there the night before. Smiling in anticipation of a delicious breakfast, he pulled out the fruit and set the pints on the counter, then began making some oatmeal.

He’d just finished a big bowl of cooked oats with lots of fruit and a little honey (with plenty left over for Kevin when his friend finally woke up) when a sleepy Aaron stumbled into the kitchen. They exchanged nods in greeting and Neil got up to put some bacon in the oven for his friends’ breakfast while Aaron availed himself on the coffee as if it was the most important thing in the world.

The bacon was almost ready and Neil was preparing the store-bought biscuits on a tray to start baking while Aaron brewed a fresh pot of coffee when Andrew showed up next. Neil gave him a smile by way of ‘good morning’ and wasn’t upset when his boyfriend nearly nodded once before heading outside (after grabbing a coat) to have a cigarette, and made sure to have a cup of coffee (plus enough sugar and milk) waiting for when Andrew came back inside.

He was tugged down for a quick kiss in exchange for the coffee then Andrew got to work making chocolate-chip pancakes to go along with the biscuits and bacon, which made Nicky’s morning when he staggered in pleading for coffee about twenty minutes later. The four of them were seated at the table, everyone but Neil eating, when Kevin finally woke up (more or less), and was happy to finish off the oatmeal once he had a couple of cups of coffee.

Neil found himself smiling as Aaron and Nicky fought over if it was better to put honey or butter on biscuits, as Kevin yelled at them for eating so many ‘useless carbs’ (while Andrew sat there quietly and determinedly shoving pancake after pancake into his mouth), as Nicky informed Kevin that a perfect set of abs could only offset his terrible personality so much…

It was exactly what he needed right then, was his friends carrying on like always, was it being just like any other Saturday. Nicky offered to wash the dishes since Neil and Andrew had cooked breakfast, and somehow guilt-tripped Aaron and Kevin into helping to clean up, and got everyone (almost everyone) involved in a debate over what they would do for the rest of the day.

Kevin, of course, wanted to watch Exy games, but even Neil disagreed with him on that. They eventually decided to watch movies, which meant that Andrew and Neil drove off to the video store to rent a bunch of movies which Andrew picked out; Neil didn’t mind since he still had a lot of catching up to do when it came to movies, and it was nice to spend a little time alone with his boyfriend.

He almost asked about the groceries and the towels and everything, but Andrew didn’t say anything so he decided to remain quiet and not ruin things.

Andrew had picked several of the 007 movies, which even Neil knew a little about but had never seen more than a few minutes of here and there. Nicky groaned and even Aaron appeared put out by the choice, but once some beers were grabbed and popcorn was made, all of them settled in the living room, Neil next to Andrew on the loveseat, and their movie marathon started.

At first the five of them were quiet while they watched, then Nicky made a smart remark, followed by Aaron, and even Kevin joined in. Neil started mocking the accents, Nicky mock-gagging over some of the women and their improbable names, Andrew even scoffed at some of the fight scenes, and soon they were tearing apart the movies, pausing only to make more drinks and order take-out for dinner.

Nicky and Kevin stood up near the television to re-enact a couple of the most ridiculous ‘romantic’ scenes until even Aaron was red-faced with laughter, while Andrew kept a count of how many improbable fight scenes there were and massive failures on the whole ‘that wouldn’t kill _anyone_ ’ topic.

By the time the last movie played for the night, Neil’s face hurt from smiling so much, the scar tissue on his left cheek a bit sore from stretching so much, and everyone appeared in a great mood. Even Andrew had more of a contemplative mood about him for once, rather than shuttered or bored.

Once they were in their room, Neil sank down on the bed while Andrew began to remove his sweater and jeans for bed. “So… today,” he said, finally addressing the topic he’d done his best to ignore all weekend. “That was you, wasn’t it? Did you have it planned out in advance or what?”

Andrew was quiet as he threw his sweater in the hamper then slowly turned to face Neil and close the space between them until he stood right in front of him. “I know how you think,” he said as he reached out his hand and, when Neil nodded, wrapped it lightly around the back of Neil’s neck. “I knew you’d obsess over this day even though it doesn’t have any meaning anymore.”

“I… it’s… it was my birthday,” Neil tried to explain as his fingers twisted in the soft material of his orange sweatpants.

“It’s _Nathaniel’s_ birthday,” Andrew said in his deep, calm voice, echoing Neil’s thought from that morning. “And I told you to leave Nathaniel behind, remember? Your birthday is March 31 st, so if this is a lame-ass way to try to get some extra presents out of me, fuck off, Josten.” Andrew’s hand slid around to gently press against Neil’s face until he fell back onto the bed. “Go to sleep, maybe you’ll wake up with a few working braincells. _Maybe_.”

Neil laughed as he straightened out on the bed then pulled off his sweatshirt and sweatpants before he crawled beneath the blankets. “Wouldn’t that be a present for _you_ , hmm?” He laughed again at his lover’s aggrieved sigh and watched as Andrew threw his clothes in the hamper as well. Once his boyfriend joined him in their bed, he rolled over to face him. “In all seriousness… _thank you_. They weren’t presents but everything you did today made me feel better and kept everyone from remembering about today, so again, thank you.”

“That’s not you falling asleep, junkie,” Andrew said, but he reached out to give Neil’s nape another gentle squeeze before pointedly closing his eyes.

“Night, Drew.”

“ _Sleep_.” That time the order was followed up by a light poke to his right cheek.

Neil smiled and closed his eyes.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *******  
> Sorry for the lack of posts, but I DO have a couple of fics in the works - one for the Vday AFTG fic exchange (so with the week?) and then the Reverse Big Bang at the end of the month/beginning of March. And I'm back at work on Ghost in You ch5 so yes, new stuff soon.
> 
> Hopefully things will start calming down on the RL front, too, but I doubt I'll get back to a regular posting schedule until March.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated.


	25. 'please' prompt - Andreil T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was a prompt using 'please/please don't hurt me' or something like that. Despite the potential angst of that, this isn't that bad (or so I think).
> 
> Obvious warnings are the triggers behind that word and the boys' pasts.  
> *******

*******

“Please don’t hurt me like this.”

The words slowly registered on Andrew, slowly sunk in to his consciousness, to the sensation of warmth and weight and slight restriction which didn’t feel uncomfortable until awareness crept past oblivion, until more words registered onto his sleep-fogged mind.

“Please… I’ll be good, _stop_.”

He thought it was him speaking them, thought it was his voice, but as he struggled to fully awaken, he realized that things were off – that the voice was too deep yet not deep enough (wasn’t the seven-year old version which haunted his dreams), that the words weren’t quite right (weren’t the awfully litany of pleas burned into his mind forever), that he didn’t feel the terrible sensation of hands roaming over his skin like they usually did when that dreaded, forbidden word was mentioned.

That he was in bed with Neil.

That it was _Neil’s_ voice.

Finally bridging the last bit of distance between slumber and full-consciousness, his eyes fluttered open to find himself in bed, stretched out on his right side with his back to the wall and Neil tucked next to him, back to chest with Andrew’s arm draped over his waist and a scant inch between them, appearing to murmur in his sleep. Appearing to plead with some unknown abuser as he slowly, ever so slowly curled up into a tighter ball as if to present as small of a target as possible, until Andrew’s left arm was trapped between his thighs and abdomen.

Andrew debated what to do next, to ride out the nightmare or risk waking up his boyfriend when Neil finally woke up on his own after letting out a weak, strangled cry; his body froze in an instinctual manner of prey stilling to avoid notice, which was Andrew’s cue to speak at last.

“You’re Neil Josten, you’re a junkie striker at PSU for the Foxes, and you’re safe,” he said in a soft, monotone voice as he flexed the muscles of his arm still wrapped (trapped) around Neil’s waist. “You’re safe.”

Neil let out a trembling breath as his body slowly relaxed. “Drew. Sorry, I wo-“

“Shut up,” Andrew told him as he pulled his boyfriend closer, the motion gentle yet steady, which gave Neil time to tense up or object, but Neil only went loose and let out a soft murmur of approval as he wrapped his arm over Andrew’s.

They were quiet for a couple of minutes as they lay together, Andrew’s left palm pressed against Neil’s chest so he could feel the slowing beat of his boyfriend’s heart, could feel the drying sweat from the fever-like flush induced from the nightmare. Around them were the sounds of Nicky and Kevin while they slept on in peaceful oblivion, the faint (or not-so faint, in Kevin’s case) snores and squeaks of mattresses as the two young men shifted about, until Neil sighed and rubbed his face against the pillow.

“Your father?” Andrew asked; he allowed himself the one question then would let the matter dropped, but unlike him, Neil often felt better when he spoke about the awful memories which plagued him in his sleep.

“No.” Neil gave a soft, bitter laugh, mindful of their roommates. “Never did me any good to beg with _him_.” He fell quiet after that, and Andrew was content to let the matter drop, to hold on to Neil until the younger man fell back to sleep, when he spoke again. “It was DiMaccio, actually. I guess I was almost nine and it was right after school finished for the year, and before summer practice started for Exy.” He gave another weak laugh when it was Andrew’s turn to sigh. “Mom was busy in the house with something so I snuck out to the backyard to try to practice a little, had improvised a racquet with some garden tools. DiMaccio found me and was angry that I was outside, to the point that he threatened to break all of my fingers.”

Neil was quiet again, his body tense as he rolled over to face Andrew. “He just broke my left pinky then beat my back bloody with his belt. Now that I know everything… I guess he couldn’t go through with the threat because of the Moriyamas, but I didn’t know that at the time.” He gave Andrew a faint smile, his face still haggard from the dream, as he held up his left hand. “I could still play so it was all right.”

The _damn_ fool; all Andrew could think about was those choked, desperate pleas, was a young Neil (Nathaniel) in that house of hell, was a young child with broken bones and broken skin huddled in his room _thankful_ that the abuse wasn’t worse than it was, how he’d been bereft of any protectors (and _no_ , Mary Hatford Wesninski certainly didn’t count in Andrew’s mind). “It’ll never happen again,” he swore as he cupped his left hand around Neil’s damp nape, as his fingers tangled in the auburn curls that had grown overlong yet again (he didn’t mind at all, didn’t object to Neil growing forgetful about haircuts despite Kevin’s bitching). “They’ll never touch you while I’m here.” Some of Wesninski’s people were still out there despite the Hatfords’ purge, and Andrew would never count on Ichirou to look after an ‘asset’.

Neil’s smile strengthened as he reached out and, after a slight nod, pressed his palms against Andrew’s chest. “I know,” was all he said, but the way his body relaxed and the peace which overtook his too-handsome face, which chased away the shadows in his eyes, was all the confirmation that Andrew needed. Neil closed his eyes after a couple of seconds and his breathing slowly evened out a minute or two later, while Andrew kept careful watch over his lover to ensure that he truly did fall into an uneventful sleep.

After ten minutes or so, he reached out to brush a tangle of curls from Neil’s nose and trailed his fingers along Neil’s scarred right cheek, the slight touch stirring no response from his sleeping boyfriend, and finally allowed himself to close his own eyes after he resettled his arm over Neil’s waist. He’d need rest to keep his promise, after.

*******

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks so much for any comments and kudos!


End file.
